


Silent Partner

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: (Well - sort of happy anyway.), AU - very AU., Alternate Universe, Angst, Blackmail, Drugs, F/M, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, PTSD, Porn Star Fraser, Prison Violence (implied), Rape/Non-con Elements, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, Ben is being blackmailed by Victoria, who forces him to become a porn star. </p><p>Ray Kowalski is undercover as a cameraman, investigating drug dealing within the industry. Ray doesn't trust Ben, Ben really doesn't trust Ray. Despite the circumstances, there is an undeniable attraction. Ray realises that, as well as bringing down the drug ring, he has to save Ben from Victoria and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Partner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vic32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vic32/gifts), [happy29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy29/gifts).



> I cannot warn people enough. This is really filthy. I'm a bad woman for writing it. If you don't like the premise then don't read it. Simples.
> 
> Other than that comments are welcome, including concrit. (Trolls, however, will be incinerated.)

 

 

_She is standing with her back to me, facing out the window. Her hair is still a tumble of black, down past her shoulders. Her face reflected against the snow-streaked glass is very beautiful._

_“You realise, don’t you, that you have no choice in this?”_

_‘There’s always a choice, Son,’ my father said._

_I knew it was a lie – that my father was a lie – a ghost conjured up by loneliness and loss. But I repeat his lie anyway. “There’s always a choice,” I told her._

_“Not for you,” she said, turned and smiled._

_~*~_

 

This gig sucked.

 

Yeah, right. Sucked. Ray bit back a mirthless smile at his own bad pun and hunched deeper into his jacket. His breath clouded out on the air, fogging his glasses. How long was he going to have to wait here? Chicago in winter. Greatness. It had started to rain.

_I don’t want to be here._

 

Fuck the world anyway. His glasses were useless in this weather. He pulled them off, stuck them in his jacket pocket and tugged the collar up around his neck. The rain was graduating through sleet to snow. He clapped his hands together and blew on them, shoved them back deep into his pockets. Trust him to lose his gloves just when he needed them. Maybe if he was lucky, his fingers would freeze off, and he wouldn’t have to go through with this bullshit.

 

Hell, he was going to _have_ to go through with it. Not like he had anything better to do. Nothing back home but an empty apartment.

 

He wasn’t thinking about that. He _wasn’t._ It had always worked for him in the past – not thinking, going with his gut. Yeah, it worked – until it didn’t anymore.

 

He couldn’t blame Stella for that. Couldn’t blame Stella at all.

_God. I screwed up this time._

 

Fuck it. The rain was nearly sleet now. If his contact didn’t turn up within the next five minutes, Ray was going to turn his back on the whole damn thing, walk back to his empty apartment, and get falling down drunk.

 

That was sounding more and more like a plan.

 

“Hi there.”

 

Ray started, coming back to himself. Oh yeah. He’d seen this guy’s photo; he was the contact alright. Big guy, meaty. Long hair, salt and pepper, braided. Six three, aging boxer. Looked a bit like Welsh actually, if Welsh had been Native American. Which, you know, he wasn’t. But there was something about this guy that reminded Ray of his old Lieu. The guy who’d given him his first real break when he started out as a rookie cop. The guy who had been looking out for him ever since.

 

Not that Welsh had been able to save him from this mess.

 

Still – maybe it was a good sign the guy looked like a friend. If nothing else, he looked like a man used to being in charge.

 

“Hey.” Ray stuck out a hand and tried not to shiver. The big guy’s hand engulfed his, strong, callused. Maybe showing off his strength a little. Maybe not even aware of it. Ray’s Dad had told him you could judge the mettle of a man on his handshake; if so, this guy made a good impression.

 

“Harry,” the guy said. “You must be Ray.”

 

“Yeah, I must be.” At least this time he got to keep his name.

 

“Okay, I guess you know the story. You’re our new cameraman. That’s it. Nobody pays attention to the crew – I mean, the boys will, they’ll probably hit on you. You got a problem with that?”

 

“No. So long as they don’t expect me to hit back.”

 

“Hmm.” Harry folded his arms and examined Ray with suspicious eyes. “Here’s _my_ problem.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “Our industry might be legal, but you got to admit. It's not well respected by the cops.”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Ray snorted. Harry narrowed his eyes.

 

“Is this a prejudice you share?”

_Wow. Way to be blunt there, Mister._

 

“Me? Oh no. I’m all for porn stars.”

 

“Even gay porn stars?”

 

In for a penny in for a pound. “Especially gay porn stars.” Ray shrugged. “Why do you think they picked me? You think the police hate on gay guys? Try being a gay cop.”

 

Harry gave a slow nod, but he didn’t quite look like he trusted him yet. That was fine. Ray hadn’t been a gay cop for long – he wasn’t sure if _he_ trusted himself yet.

 

“They’ll be fine. Your job is just to watch them, keep them safe, stay low profile. Keep your eyes open, your ears open.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray felt his irritation grow. “That’s great, but how about you tell me what I’m keeping them safe from?”

 

Harry gave him a look of weary scorn. “Your handlers didn’t say anything?”

 

Ray tried to reign in his temper. “I need to hear it from you. Everywhere your lads turn up on this ‘tour’ of theirs, the same drugs pop up on the streets. Killing people.”

 

“It’s not my boys.”

 

“I don’t know how to break this to you, Harry, but they’re the only common thread.”

 

“It’s not my boys.” Harry’s voice was dangerous. Ray felt his hackles rise.

 

“Oh yeah? So, why’s it following them?”

 

“That’s what I want you to find out.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “Last thing I want is one of them to wind up dead of an overdose.”

 

“Well, maybe you should have a word with them about not sampling the product. Don’t get high on your supply. Any dealer knows that.”

 

“They are not dealers.”

 

“What if they are, though? What if you don’t like what I find, you thought of that? What’s that gonna do for business?”

 

“I don’t care about business.” Ray blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m getting old.” Harry looked it too. How had Ray not noticed? “I want to retire, and when I do I want to know my boys are safe. That’s all. Someone’s hurting them, and I need for you to stop it.”

 

Either this guy was the world’s best if kinkiest, boss, or he was a total liar.

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

Harry’s guard went back up, his face tight and belligerent. Ray stood his ground – he was bleeding attitude here, and he knew it. No choice. If he backed down now, if he let this guy think he was weak, he’d be on the wrong foot for this entire gig.

 

Harry broke the stand-off first, lifting one shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

 

“Believe me, don’t believe me. I don’t care. If I don’t like what you find, well, we’ll deal with it then. But I don’t want you going in prejudiced against them. You got that?”

 

“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I let prejudice get in the way. Besides.” Ray twitched a smile. “I already told you. I got no problem with them.”

 

“You hadn’t better,” Harry snapped. “These lads aren’t doing anything wrong. Not if you live outside the Bible belt anyway. Yeah, they smoke a bit of pot, maybe pop a few pills, but nothing too serious.” He scowled. “I don’t want you busting them for little stuff like that.”

 

“I wasn’t going to,” Ray said, forcing calm into his voice. The guy sounded as protective of his ‘boys’ as Welsh did of his detectives. Ray could live with that. “Sounds like you’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

 

“Huh.” Harry looked like he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, but gave in. “Well, you’re the best I have, so I’ll have to trust you, I guess.”

 

“Yeah. And I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

 

Harry smiled a little at that. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I’ve tried talking to them about it, but they closed right up. If they don’t trust me, they don’t trust anyone. All I know is....”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, it looked like Jake was going to say something. He said something about being worried one of them was being blackmailed. But then Luke walked in, and he clammed up. None of them have said a word since.”

 

“You think Luke has something to do with it?”

 

“No,” Harry snapped.

 

“Sorry, I got to ask.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry.” Harry rubbed his forehead with both hands like he had the start of a headache. It was fucking cold, no wonder. Ray’s teeth were beginning to ache with it. “Okay. I know it’s your job to ask. But just – it’s not Luke. I mean, he’s a good kid. He wouldn’t be....”

 

“Come on. You can say it.”

 

Harry glared at him. “He wouldn’t be smuggling drugs.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“I just know him, alright? If the boys are doing anything like that, then someone’s forcing them.”

 

“You sure it’s blackmail, though? These guys are already out and proud – I mean way _out._ Any outer they’d be in fucking space.”

 

Harry laughed at that, then frowned. “There are other ways to blackmail someone. You know that.”

 

Ray did know that, but he wanted to figure Harry out. “What you thinking?”

 

“I don’t know.” Harry’s brow was furrowed, frustrated. “If I knew, I wouldn’t need you guys, would I?”

 

“Is there anyone else I can talk to? Your business partners? Producers? Anyone like that?”

 

“I’m trying to keep it on the QT. The fewer people know about this the better.”

 

That was interesting. Harry didn’t seem to trust the management. “So it could be anyone – the makeup girl, your publicity team, your legal guys....”

 

“It could be. But I’m almost certain it’s not the boys.”

 

Almost certain. Well, there was an interesting comment. Just a minute ago Harry was swearing up and down that it wasn’t ‘his boys.’ “Who else is there on your everyday crew? I’m the only camera guy – is that normal?”

 

“We’re trying to keep costs down,” Harry's tone was dry. “My business partner prefers to spend the money on the talent.”

 

“And what’s this business partner like?”

 

“Quiet.” Harry’s voice was acerbic. He clearly didn’t like his partner. “She’s just the money man. Woman. I organise the schedule, arrange the day to day details.”

 

“So, who does the accounts?”

 

“I do.” Harry rolled his eyes. “For all the good it does me. You can look through them if you like. I got nothing to hide, but I’m not that good at numbers.”

 

“Okay.” Ray’s gut was telling him Harry was on the up and up. “Well, I’ll do what I can.”

 

“Better be enough.” Harry pulled a cigarette out of his inside coat pocket. Ray’s eyes tracked it automatically. “You want one?”

 

“I quit,” Ray said, reaching out for it. He grimaced. “But yeah.” Harry nodded, passed him the lighter, and fished another cigarette out for himself. Ray inhaled, coughed, and felt better. He’d forgotten that moment of dizzy rush – right now he needed it. He gave himself a few moments to enjoy the nicotine and pondered what he’d learnt so far.

 

“So, what you’re saying is, your – your ‘boys’ –” Ray winced at the word. He hadn’t realised until he said it just how creepy it sounded. “Your ‘boys’ won’t go to the cops, ’cause they reckon we all hate ’em, but you reckon it’s not them behind the drug thing? That someone is forcing them into it?”

 

“Yeah. Got it in a nutshell.” Harry offered another cigarette, and Ray cupped his hand around the little flame as Harry lit it. His lungs stung, but not as much as last time.

 

“Okay, Harry, you been honest with me, I’ll be honest with you.” Ray blew out smoke and closed his eyes. “Don’t ask me why, but it seems the brass had some trouble finding a cop to take this case. Maybe folks think the gay rubs off or something. Anyway, the person they had lined up to do this backed out at the last moment, so I’m afraid you got me. And they only told _me_ three days ago. I don’t even know what your boys look like.”

 

“Can’t be many gay guys who don’t know what they look like.”

 

“We don’t all watch porn,” Ray snapped. Then, before he could stop himself, “besides, my wife wouldn’t have liked it.” He flinched, looked down at his naked ring finger. Fuck. His heart hurt so damn much. What the hell did he have to tell this guy for anyway?

 

Harry lifted his eyebrows, but other than that didn’t look too surprised. “What does your wife think of you being gay?”

 

“Can’t say she was thrilled to find out.” Ray snorted. “Hell, _I_ wasn’t thrilled to find out.”

 

“So, she left you.” It wasn’t a question – Harry was stating it as fact, and looking at him with sympathy.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

“Yeah.” Ray hunched his shoulders. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, I got offered this gig real fast, I wanted to disappear real fast, and they put me under real fast. So, I mightn’t be up to speed on everything. I’ll do my best though. That’s it.”

 

“Don’t worry about fucking up.” Harry put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He seemed to have dropped his suspicions in light of Ray’s revelations. Who knew that confessing to being an idiot out of his depth would make him look good? “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

 

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

 

“You’ll do good. I know you’ve got back up, and besides, I reckon they’ll like you.”

 

“Yeah?” For some weird reason Ray felt flattered.

 

“Yeah.” Harry looked thoughtful. “You might like them too,” he mused.

 

“I’m here to do a job,” Ray snapped, not flattered anymore, officially freaked out. “Besides, I’m a bit old for them.”

 

“One of them’s your age,” Harry pointed out.

 

“What, seriously? I thought it was the ‘Pretty Boys,’ not the ‘Old Farts.’”

 

Harry laughed, and before he could stop himself Ray was laughing back. “Wait till you meet him. Ben’s something special.”

 

“What, you’re a matchmaker now are you?”

 

“You’re not bad for a cop,” Harry said, still chuckling. “Okay. So, last time I’ll ask. You sure you’re up for this?”

 

“I’m always up for it,” Ray smirked. “Okay. Lead on MacDuff – if I’m going to be cameraman to the stars, you’d better show me where the hell my camera is.”

 

Harry nodded, and turned. “Okay. You’ll do. Tour bus is this way.”

~*~

 

The tour bus was more of an RV. The first thing Ray noticed when he stepped aboard was that Harry was right about the drugs – the air stank of pot. Ray felt strangely disappointed. He tried to go into any gig with an open mind, but he’d maybe expected a little more glamour.

 

That’s what he got for not watching the porn. Perhaps he was frightened of what else he might find out about his sexuality. Then again, maybe he was just scared of beautiful guys in their twenties wagging their manhoods around.  Whatever; it made him sad to think of these lads touring the country, getting off and getting high. Which was a stupid thing to be sad about. He’d bet a year’s salary that these kids didn’t feel sorry for themselves. Hell, he’d bet _their_ salaries. After all, they were living the dream, weren’t they? Getting paid for getting laid.

 

But still, it made Ray sad. He knew he was only ten years older than most of them, fifteen at the most – but somehow it felt like a lot more. He felt like an overprotective big brother or something.

 

Because the second thing he noticed was how young they looked. God, he remembered being in his twenties, thinking he was all grown up. These boys were... well, shit. Boys. Gorgeous, but kids. Three of them draped across a couch; limbs tangled up together. A fourth lying on the floor, legs akimbo, lazily blowing smoke into the air. They looked like they should still be in high school. Too fucking young for this.

 

And not wearing much. Of anything. Strangely, that was the last thing Ray noticed. The ‘boys’ were lying around in nothing but their boxers. Which was just as well, since the last thing Ray wanted to see on his first day were a bunch of rampant erections. Thank God he’d worn loose pants. But it was clear, even with boxers on, that these ‘boys’ were... huh. Well endowed.

 

Really, really well endowed.

 

Not that Ray was a slouch in that department, but still. Ray had been gay for five minutes, and all of a sudden he was surrounded by... well... the only thing he could think of was 'cocky boys'. Shit. It was enough to give a man a complex.

 

“Who’s the new guy?” The lad on the floor gestured in his general direction, his joint trailing a lazy arc of smoke behind it. Ray fixated for a moment on the kid’s ink – a dragon tattooed on his neck. Christ that must have hurt. His own tattoo tingled in remembered sympathy.

 

“This is Ray,” Harry said. “He’s the new cameraman.”

 

“What happened to Simon?”

 

“Simon got another gig.”

 

“Yeah,” a voice came from the couch. “He got sick of you turning him down, and now he’s off filming girls instead.”

 

“Fuck you.” The kid on the floor flipped his friend off with one hand, sucked his joint with the other, and grinned, blowing smoke rings. “Hi. I’m Jake.” He propped himself up on an elbow, to take a better look at Ray. “Well, hello.” He smiled. “You’re better looking than Simon, anyway.”

 

“Uh. Thanks.” Ray scratched the back of his neck and darted a nervous smile. Now that he was used to the smell of the pot, there was no escaping the smell of – well, sex in the air. Somebody, somewhere, had just got some. Maybe several some-ones. Maybe all of them.

 

Shit. Stella had hated that smell, always left the window open in the mornings afterward. Ray? He quite liked it. Even if it was a bit... what was the word? Pungent.

 

The smell alone could give you a hard on.

 

“So, uh, this Simon.” Ray’s voice had taken on a life of its own – he was talking nonsense with the best of them. “He was a bit of a mangy dog, was he?”

 

Jake laughed again. “Stop fishing for compliments,” he said. “You’re a good looking guy. Own it.” He took another puff on his joint, and passed it to Ray. Ray blinked at it, and handed it back.

 

“Thanks. I don’t....”

 

“That’s a shame,” a voice from the couch interrupted. Ray caught a glimpse of a blond head, but it was hard to make out, with someone else’s arm draped over it. “If you’re hanging around with us guys, you’ll have to get used to not saying ‘I don’t.’ I mean. Unless you really don’t. If you _really_ don’t then you’re screwed.”

 

“Mick, how shit faced are you?” A third voice. Ray couldn’t quite figure out who was speaking from the tangle on the couch. “You probably think you sound all... I dunno. Yoda-like. Zen.”

 

“Shut up, Anakin.”

 

The boys collapsed giggling. Ray found himself grinning helplessly. They were – cute. Dammit. That was the only word he could think of. Young, geeky, giggly. In a different world, he could have been one of these boys. And wasn’t _that_ a thought.

 

“You want a beer?” Harry asked, walking the length of the trailer. Ray blinked, feeling a bit dizzy. Harry didn’t fit in with this scene – he seemed too solid, too sensible, too flannelly, too....

 

Admit it. Too old.

 

Like Ray. Ray was too old for this. What the hell were the brass thinking, putting him undercover with these kids?

 

“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll have a beer.”

 

“I want one too.” Jake waved his arm in the air. Harry grunted, and tossed a bottle over to him. Jake sat up, propped himself against the foot of the couch, and twisted the cap off the beer. It frothed over the top of the bottle. Jake smirked and licked up the foam. His tongue was shockingly pink and long against the brown glass.

 

“Is he giving the bottle a blow job?” The dark haired lad on the couch raised a sleepy head, and grinned down at Jake. “Oh yeah. Camera guy, it’s official. He likes you. Jake doesn’t suck off beer bottles to impress just anybody.”

 

“Takes more than that to impress me,” Ray said, sounding surprisingly calm. He twisted the lid off his own beer bottle, leaned back against the wall, and took a deep swallow. Drinking beer had never been a tease before, well, not since high school, when he was playing tough guy to Stella’s princess. But today it was definitely a tease. He could feel Jake’s eyes following the line of his throat as he swallowed. Maybe he arched his neck a little. Maybe.

 

Okay. Definitely. The kid was watching. Despite himself Ray threw an appreciative look at Jake, licked beer from his lip. He felt like a slut, but enjoyed it anyway. His cock was interested. So what? It wasn’t like he was going to make a play or anything. “So, what else do you do?” he heard himself saying. _Shit. I am going straight to hell. I should be busting this kid and sending him back to finish high school._

 

Jake let his legs fall open, and Ray zeroed in on his groin. _Fuck,_ he thought. The boxers were not doing a good job of hiding the goods. _So, he really is that big._

 

And getting bigger. Ray actually deflated a little bit. He’d never seen another guy getting harder by the second. And tomorrow there wouldn’t even be a layer of cotton in the way. Ray had to film this shit.

 

“It’s all true then,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Good to know I don’t have to photoshop anything.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I see you’re gonna fit in just fine round here.”

 

“Yeah, but does he have a name?” The dark haired kid – Ray was thinking of him as ‘Anakin’  – was looking more awake now. He smiled at Ray like he was on the menu. “Please tell me you have a name.”

 

“Ray.” Christ, he was sweating bullets here. “And you are?”

 

“Hungry.” The kid yawned. “When’s Ben getting back with the takeout?”

 

“Depends if he had to go back twice. That damn wolf probably ate everything.”

 

“Ben’s a wolf?” Ray said, stupidly. Everyone else in the room, even Harry, cracked up at that.

 

Ray was dizzy. Maybe he was getting a contact high or something. Though that wasn’t real, was it? Whatever, it was a bit hazy in here.

 

“Actually, maybe he _is_ a wolf,” Jake mused. “I mean, he likes to bite.”

 

“You’d know.” ‘Anakin’ sat up and scratched his belly. “What with you both being Canucks.”

 

“You’re just jealous. You know you want to be Canadian.”

 

Harry groaned. “Don’t start singing about it, that’s all I ask.”

 

Jake smirked, and started singing. “Oh, Canada....”

 

“Fuck you!” One of the boys on the couch aimed a pillow at his head. Ray took a step back from the ensuing scuffle just as the door opened, and a flurry of white charged in.

 

Holy shit. That was a frigging _wolf._

 

“Euwh, Dief!” Jake sprang to his feet, song forgotten, and covered his crotch with a pillow. The wolf yipped and shook himself off, scattering cold water all over the trailer. Jake darted back, grinning, and thwacked the wolf with his pillow. The wolf grabbed it, ducking down in what Ray knew was a play bow.

 

Okay, so the wolf was only messing. But still. Fucking _Wolf._

 

For a nearly naked guy being menaced by a wolf though, Jake seemed to be taking things in his stride. In fact, now he was playing tug of war with it, and laughing himself silly. The wolf’s tail was wagging like a flag. His nails clicked and skittered as Jake dragged him across the floor.

 

“Ben,” Jake was breathless and grinning. “What have I told you about that wolf of yours?”

 

“One of these days he’s going to see a cock and think it’s a chew toy,” Mick declared. “And that will be a tragedy.”

 

“Dief,” a firm voice came from the doorway. “Behave.”

 

Dief whined, and let go of the pillow, tail still wafting in the air. Ray turned from the tug of war and caught his first sight of the wolf’s owner.

 

And went hard so fast he nearly fell over.

 

If the Pretty Boys were still boys, then this guy was a _man._ Okay, so when Harry said one of the guys was Ray’s age, he’d been a bit doubtful. Ray knew guys his age; some of them looked good but he couldn’t imagine any of them in porno. This guy though – well, _fuck._ This guy just radiated sex. Broad shouldered, straight-backed, his faded jeans just the right side of too tight. Ray swallowed, his mouth dry. Because this guy – Holy crap. It wasn’t just the body. He had the most beautiful face Ray had ever seen. It was snowing out, and the guy’s nose and ears were pink, his cheeks flushed. He shouldn’t have looked so good. But he had blue eyes, long black lashes, and petal pink lips. He should have looked girly, but his mouth was sensuous, and his face was strong. He looked like Snow White’s big brother. Her big sexy brother.

 

And oh, God. There was snow melting on his eyelashes, in his dark, wavy hair. Ray wanted to towel him down. It didn’t make sense. The guy dominated the room, and he was fully clothed, carrying bags of take out.

_Christ, what does he look like with his clothes off?_

 

Behind him the boys laughed, and Ray cringed. “Did I say that aloud?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

 

“Yeah, you kind of did.” The blond lad, Mick, was sitting up straight now, pulling a blanket over his lap and drumming out a beat on his thighs. “Come on, Ben. Feed me. Feed me. I’m dying here.”

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ray was so mortified that his feet were probably blushing. “Ben? Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

 

“He’s used to it,” Jake said, and swigged his beer wistfully.

 

“Don’t worry,” Ben said. “I’m not in the least embarrassed.” He shook his head, and gave a minute smile, just a little crooked and sly. He looked Ray up and down, and flicked his tongue over his lower lip. “I have to say, I was wondering the same thing about you.”

 

“Uh....” It took a minute for the penny to drop. Then Ray got it. _He was wondering about seeing me naked? Me? He can’t be that desperate, can he?_

 

“Ben one, Ray zero,” ‘Anakin’ called out. “Harry, hit me.”

 

“Get your own drink, Luke,” Harry said, lumbering down the trailer. “And if you boys start a drinking game, you’ll be wrecked in the morning.”

 

“Drinking game?” Ray felt lost, and not a little bit old.

 

“Yeah.” ‘Anakin’ – no, _Luke_ grinned. “Every time Ben kills someone dead with his sex appeal, we have a drink.”

 

“That’s why we’re always drunk,” Mick offered.

 

Ben gave the boys a disapproving frown, and nodded in the direction of the kid who was still sleeping. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” He dumped the takeout on a counter, and shrugged out of his leather jacket. He was wearing a fugly red checked shirt like he was trying not to be sexy. It wasn’t working. The guy rocked the lumberjack look. “Is Richie alright?”  

 

“Don’t worry, Ben.” Mick gave a reassuring smile. “He’s in a post-sex coma. He’s fine.”

 

Jake giggled. “Ben’s such a Mom.”

 

“When he’s not being a sex god.” ‘Anakin’ – no, _Luke_ – stood and grabbed a bag from Ben. “You get my gang suparod?”

 

“Yes, Luke.” Ben sounded amused. “And pad thai.”

 

“Oh man, that smells good.” Mick was licking his lips. Jake threw a fond glance up at him, and rested his head on his knees. Mick’s hand dropped down and played with Jake’s hair. Ray felt a twinge of nostalgia. These boys were more than just fuck buddies or work colleagues. Jake closed his eyes, and put his hand on Mick’s fingers, stroked them lightly.

 

Ray looked away. It made him feel old and sad. He used to stroke Stella’s hair like that. And Stella used to look at him like Mick was looking at Jake.

 

“Come on, Ben. We’re dying here,” Luke interjected. “What, are you holding the food for ransom?”

 

Ben shook his head, with an affectionate twinkle in his eyes. “Get some plates, Luke.”

 

“Plates? But if we eat ’em out of the carton we don’t have to wash dishes. Jeez, you really are a Mom.”

 

“That’s a terribly misogynistic comment,” Ben chided Luke, looking disappointed. “There is nothing wrong with mothers.”

 

“Come on, Ben.” Jake opened his eyes, and put on a doleful expression. “No lecture. I’m so hungry I’d eat the tray.”

 

“We can at least pretend to be civilised.” Ben flicked his gaze back to Ray, licked his lip again. This time Ray caught a glimpse of teeth – and oh, wow. That made his mouth look even better – because that little smile wasn’t perfect. There was one slightly crooked tooth to go with the crooked grin. “After all,” Ben said, “we want to make a good impression.”

 

“You’re not gonna make us say grace are you?”

 

Mick choked with laughter, and patted Jake’s cheek. “Don’t say that. He’ll think you mean it.”

 

“Well,” Ben kept a straight face. “Some of us have a lot to be grateful for.”

 

“He’s gonna make us do the dishes next,” Jake complained.

 

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry appeared from the back of the trailer with a pile of plates and trays. “If you guys don’t stop jerking each other around we’re all gonna starve to death. Sit up.”

 

Grumbling, the boys started to sit up. Even the kid who’d been sleeping sat up, blinking owlishly around the room.

 

“Wow. Ben,” he said. “Food. I love you.”

 

“You love everyone, Richie.” Jake reached for the prawn crackers and started munching. “Fuck, that’s good.”

 

Ben started plating up, shaking his head and smiling slightly. “I try to teach them manners, but as you can see, it’s a losing battle.” He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you like, Ray? We have a bit of everything here.”

 

Ray stared at Ben for a beat, feeling dazed and a bit spaced out. _Oh, yeah. He’s talking about food...._

 

“I’ll try anything once.”

 

Ben blinked, a startled expression on his face.

 

“Oh, and this time _Ray_ scores! It’s one one, guys. He made Ben blush.”

 

“You’re incorrigible, Jake.” Ben plonked himself down on the couch, stretched his long legs out, and crossed them at the ankle. His hiking boots were unlaced. “I did not blush.”

 

“Did so.”

 

Ben rolled his eyes. “Make some space for our guest.”

 

Luke raised an eyebrow. “He wants you to sit on his lap, Ray.”

 

Ray darted a look at Ben’s crotch, then away again. That was a nice bulge there. He felt Ben’s knowing gaze follow him. _Fuck._ His face was hot. “Uh, I’ll just sit here,” he said, and settled on the floor. The big wolfy creature – Dief – came up and lay against him. He didn’t look so intimidating now, more like a dog than a wolf. He smelled like wet dog, that was for sure. Ray scratched Dief's head, and the dog moaned happily, tail thumping the floor. Ben leaned across, with a towel and started rubbing Dief dry. And where had the towel come from?

_Oh yeah. These guys must get through a lot of towels._

 

Lucky Dief. Getting rubbed down by Ben. Dief rolled on his back and waved his legs in the air.

 

“Show some dignity, Dief.” Ben sat back and folded the towel, placing it neatly on the side. “You’re an Arctic wolf for God’s sake.”

 

“He really _is_ a wolf?”

 

“Well, half wolf, actually.”

 

“Yeah,” Jake paused with a dumpling halfway to his mouth. “What he doesn’t tell you is, the other half’s not dog. Dief's a werewolf. But he only hunts donuts.”

 

Ben looked pained, and handed Ray a plate. “I’m afraid Jake is right.”

 

“What?” Ray managed not to snigger, and started scratching Dief's forehead again. “This hairy guy’s a werewolf?”

 

“No, no he’s not. Although he is a frightful elitist, and would disagree. He is, however, a food fiend. Watch out for his wily ways,” Ben sighed. “No matter what he tells you, he is not in fact starving to death.” He looked at Dief sternly. “Dief. Remember. Humans eat first.”

 

Dief groaned eloquently, and turned pleading eyes on Ray.

 

“What’s he saying, Ray?” Ben sounded amused. Ray liked that. He liked the understated humour in his voice.

 

“He’s saying ‘feed me pork dumplings.’ And hey. He really does talk, doesn’t he?”

 

“Yeah.” Jake was licking his fingers and eyeing the chicken. “He’s Ben’s familiar. Ben’s secretly a warlock.”

 

“He put a spell on me, that’s for sure.” Mick batted his eyelashes, and Jake sniggered.

 

Ray blushed again – normally he never blushed, but he was going to die of it at this rate – and focussed on his plate. The food was good. It had been a while since he’d eaten Thai. Be a shame if he was so turned on he couldn’t taste it.

 

“You like the food?” Ben asked, in a low voice, as though he was reading Ray’s thoughts.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“Would you like to go for dinner sometime?”

 

“Uh...” Ray looked up at Ben helplessly, and smiled. “Yeah.”

_‘He put a spell on me,’_ Ray thought.

 

Okay, so Mick was teasing, but maybe Ray knew how he felt.

~*~

 

_The boy was running through the whirl of winter. The world was a white wind, and his legs and lungs burned, but he didn’t dare stop. The man was close behind him, his shadow a sharp stain spreading upon the snow, swallowing the light. The boy would never find his parents now. They’d been swallowed by the shadow and the storm._

 

Ben turned in his sleep, struggling to rise out of the snow.

_Her voice was a golden ribbon. He followed it through the maze, but it only drew him deeper into darkness. When he found her at the heart of the storm she was frozen. They hid in each other’s bodies, his heat buried in her frost, and she was so cold, her fingers in his mouth. They curled in the moment of coitus, wrapped in winter’s womb, and the instant never changed. It never changed, and never changed and then she said –_

_“You realise, don’t you, that you have no choice in this?”_

_“There’s always a choice.”_

_“Not for you.”_

 

Ben awoke from his recurring nightmare and opened his eyes in the dark. Beside him he could hear the breathing of his cellmate – no. No. He wasn’t in prison. That time had passed. It was only Ray, the new cameraman, sleeping in the bunk on the other side of the room. Ben steadied his own breathing. Nothing to fear, no reason to be claustrophobic. Yes, this little room in the RV was small – smaller than his cell had been in fact – but it was safe. He could leave anytime. And the cameraman, whatever else he might be, was no threat to him.

 

Ben rolled on his side, and focussed his eyes on Ray’s side of the room. Even he couldn’t see in this dark, but it comforted him that his back was against the wall. Nobody could creep up behind. When the sun brightened outside the little window he would be ready for anything. For –

 

Well, nothing, when he thought about it. He had already determined that Ray wasn’t a danger.

 

So, why did he think the man wasn’t what he said he was? And why, despite his distrust, was he content to lie here? To lie and watch the sun rise and creep soft across his features?

_Don’t be stupid, Benton,_ he told himself. _You know perfectly well why you want to watch him. You’re a slut, after all._

 

With a sense of self-disgust he rolled onto his back, and let his hand fall on his belly. There it was, as usual, the erection – or as the boys called it ‘morning wood’ – lying against his lower abdomen. Strange that he had been able to sublimate his body’s urges for years. Stranger still that now he was constantly aware of arousal – both his and that of other people’s. Yesterday the new cameraman was clearly aroused by the atmosphere of flirtation and sex. And yet he hadn’t seemed entirely comfortable with the situation. Which – granted, Ben hadn’t been comfortable either when he entered this world. But then Ray was alleged to be an experienced cameraman, who had worked on other shoots. As such, Ben wouldn’t have expected him to be so – well, not prudish, exactly. ‘Timid’ was the only word.

 

And yes, Ben was aware of the fact that he was perhaps a little paranoid. Given his experiences in life so far paranoia was a reasonable state. People were so rarely what they seemed. He himself wasn’t what he had seemed when he was younger, what he had believed himself to be.

_Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself._ His father’s voice in his head – again. His father had been dead these many years now; Ben barely even remembered what he looked like. Only one faded family photograph had survived. But somehow his father’s voice stayed with him. When Ben was younger the imagined voice was so strong that he literally heard it. When he was about eight his grandmother had caught him in the middle of a conversation with his father. She had tugged him down onto her lap, and told him fiercely that there was no such thing as ghosts. She had cried and he had hugged her, confused to be the one comforting his formidable grandmother. After that even his father’s imagined voice was gone.

 

Until, that is, Ben was released from prison. Too late for Buck Frobisher’s funeral, not that Ben would have been welcome at an RCMP funeral in any case. Buck had maybe forgiven him, but nobody else had.

 

That first Christmas it became clear to Ben that he was damaged, and psychotic, and in danger of completely losing his mind. Perhaps he _had_ lost his mind. It would certainly explain how easily he had fallen into this lifestyle. So what that he’d been pushed?

 

The worst of it was that now he had banished his father again, he missed even the illusion of a ghost. Not once in all the years since his parents’ deaths had he conjured up his mother’s shade. Why his father – who had never been much of a comfort even when he was alive? Of course, he had ignored the renewed visitations, and they stopped after a while. Perhaps he should have welcomed his insanity and spoken back. Perhaps then Victoria would have left him alone.

 

No, that was never going to happen. Even if he had got himself committed she would have found a way. And besides, he had been trying, so hard, so damn hard, to get his life back. Because he needed to hold everything together, to save Robert.

 

Well, at least he’d done that much right. Too late for Victoria, too late for himself, but he’d saved one soul, at least.

_Don’t think of her._

 

It was easier to think of his father, even if it hurt. The hurt was familiar, his oldest friend. He and his mother had always been missing his father.

 

Yes. He had missed his father. More even than his mother, because at least she had been _there_. For years he had missed him. In the solitary reaches of life before Victoria, through the life afterward.

 

All of it. Through all of it. Through prison and beyond.

 

Perhaps that was why it was his father’s ghost who visited him, and not his mother’s. He couldn’t have faced his mother. He was so used to imagined conversations with his father. He always had been – and yet he never had known what to say when the man was actually _there_. His earliest memories were of conjuring up his father’s voice. Five years old, waiting to hear dogs coming across the snow. Night after night, week after week, month after month.

 

The ghost was gone. And the words he imagined his father saying to him now were no comfort: _You brought it on yourself, Son. There’s nobody to blame but yourself._

 

Still. Even imagined recriminations were better than nothing.

 

The darkness was lifting a little. He rolled back round to watch the light bring Ray's face into focus. Maybe it was symbolic of something. He felt compelled to watch this man, to see him step out of the shadows. There was something about him which made Ben sure that he too he was hiding a secret.

 

There was something else about him too. A bruised vulnerability. Innocence perhaps.

 

Maybe it was that which attracted him. Ben hadn’t been innocent in a long time.

~*~

 

Ray woke up to a series of muffled thumps, and a raging erection. He had no fucking clue where the hell he was. He jolted upright, heart thumping and....

 

Remembered. He was on tour with a bunch of porn stars.

 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, and rubbed his face. For a moment there he’d wondered if he’d got shit faced last night. He felt a little bit stoned, and it was a long time since he’d had to say _that_. But that wasn’t it. He’d had a couple of beers and sat up talking till three in the morning. That was all. And then he'd staggered to bed before he fell asleep on the floor.

_I'm just wiped out from all the adrenaline._

 

Crap. Well, some of him wasn’t wiped out. Ray glared down at his hard on, willing it to behave. No way was he beating off in a tin box, even a very nice tin box, with five horny guys practically on top of him. Six if Harry was horny too. And fuck, he did _not_ need to know the answer to that one.

 

He groaned and tried to roll over. That was when he remembered the wolf. Because – yeah. Just how you want to start your day. A big hairy face was grinning down at him, tongue lolling, bad doggy breath and everything.

 

"Oh God."

 

Dief's tail thwacked happily against the wall – yeah. That was the thumping sound that had woken him. Definitely the mutt’s fault that Ray was awake. Not just awake. Being squashed. The wolf was on top of him. It was like being attacked by a sixty pound hairy comforter.

 

Okay. That killed the erection.

 

“Uh, hi, Dief.”

 

Dief dropped his head on Ray’s shoulder, and licked his face.

 

“Urgh! Dog breath!”

 

“Diefenbaker.” A lazy drawl came from close by, and Ray turned his head. Oh, shit. Ben was sprawled on the next bed, close enough to touch. A lock of long hair curled on his forehead. He looked sleep mussed and delicious.

 

“Ben, the wolf’s getting intimate with my face. Get him off me!”

 

“I'm afraid you’ll have to tell him yourself. He never listens to me.” Ben paused. “Well. Obviously. He is deaf, after all.”

 

“Deaf? I’m being mauled by a deaf wolf?”

 

“Well, not mauled, exactly. Slobbered on, perhaps.” Ben propped himself up on an elbow, and the sheet slid back.

_Acres_ of white skin. Wow, that was a beautiful chest. Smooth, save for a crescent shaped scar on his pectoral. His pink nipples rising into points beneath Ray's gaze and....

_Stop staring. You’re going to get an eyeful later when you have to film this guy._ Ray flushed, and looked away. Even despite the wolf, the erection was in danger of coming back.

 

“Dief,” Ray tried to distract himself from the vision of a tousled Ben. “Get off me!”

 

“Make eye contact,” Ben said, his voice amused. “Enunciate.”

 

“Enunciate?”

 

“He can’t read your lips if you mangle your words.”

 

“He reads lips?”

 

“Well, if he does, he’s self taught.”

_This guy is certifiable._ Ray turned his head, and grasped Dief by the ears. He stared into his eyes, trying to muster up all his inner bad ass.

 

“Get. Off. Me.”

 

Dief yawned – _oh yuck, stink breath_ – and bounded off the bed. With a last swipe of his tongue he ambled out of the room. Ray heard groans from the neighbouring beds further down the trailer, and laughter. Seemed like Dief was playing alarm clock to the rest of the crew.

_Wow. The brass are never gonna believe me when I give my first report. This is nuts._

 

When Ray looked again, Ben was smiling.

 

“So,” Ray said, for the sake of something to say. “Do you come here often?” _Oh my God. I’m using cheesy chat up lines on a gay porn star. I have freaking lost my mind._

 

Ben’s smile turned sultry. Fuck, his eyes were so _blue._ “Most days,” he said. “Depending on the film schedule.”

_Most days –?_

 

Oh God. Ben was talking about _coming._ Ben was returning his interest. He didn’t care if Ray was cheesy or sleazy. He was... Fucking hell. He was _hitting_ on Ray.

 

Okay. So, his wolf was deaf. Ben was clearly _blind._

 

And his hand was under the sheet, moving.

 

For the second time in less than twelve hours Ray went hard so fast it damn near gave him an injury. Ben looked at Ray’s tented sheet, and licked his lips.

 

“Since you’re the cameraman, I suppose you need to inspect the goods?”

 

“Uh....”

 

“Two one to Ben,” Luke called from the next room. “I heard that one from here.”

 

Ray sat up. Damn. He’d forgotten for a moment that there was anyone else in this tin can.

 

“Fuck you, Luke,” he called.

 

“Yeah, you wish.”

 

Ben glanced at the doorway.

 

“There is a lock,” he said. “If that would help.”

 

Ray swallowed, his throat dry. “Well,” he said. “Uh... Maybe later.”

 

Ben nodded, and dropped his head back on his pillow, folded his arms behind his head.

 

“It can wait,” he said. Something flickered across his face – not quite regret, not quite cynicism. Something hard and sad at the same time. “You’ll see everything soon enough.”

~*~

 

Ray hadn’t done any filming since college, and he’d flunked out of college. He’d had a basic refresher course before the PD put him on this gig, but he was still pretty sure he was going to fuck up. “Relax, Ray,” Elaine had reassured him. “You’ll do fine.” Yeah, right. She _had_ to say that – it was her job. It wasn’t like she could say what she was thinking – “Oh God, the operation is doomed. You’re totally fucked. Sorry, Ray. Sucks to be you.” Ray bit his cheek, trying not to laugh out his anxiety. It wasn’t working. A panicked giggle escaped him, and he clamped down on it hard. _Shit._ Six hours practice behind the camera wasn’t going to be anything like enough. His hands were sweating.

 

Of course, the fact that he was in a film studio with a soon to be naked Benton Fraser had something to do with that.

 

Benton Fraser. What parent called their child Benton? No wonder the guy grew up queer. He probably went through high school with the other kids calling him Bent. Ray knew kids, and he could just – almost – imagine Ben as a kid. He’d have been an oddball, smarter than everyone in his class. And kids didn’t like smart kids. Especially when they were beautiful too.

 

“You musta hated school,” Ray said, trying for casual, as Harry set up the studio lights.

 

“I didn’t spend a lot of time at school,” Ben said, staring at a clothes rack. “But on those brief occasions when I did attend, yes. I found it an unpleasant experience.”

 

“Uh, so why didn’t you go to school?”

 

“I spent most of my childhood just South of the Arctic circle.” Ben frowned as he examined his costume. He’d arrived at the studio already wearing the tight leather pants. Which, thank God, because Ray might have died if he’d seen Ben changing into that. “Schools were hard to come by. Harry –” he interrupted himself. “Do I really have to wear this? It’s a bit garish.”

 

“Oh yeah. Says ‘Big Red.’” Jake was perched with Mick on the back of a very luxurious purple couch.

 

“’Big Red?’” What the fuck? Ray was confused. Arctic fucking _circle?_

 

“Yeah. He used to be a Mountie.” Jake stretched and let his head fall against the cushions. “Thought _everyone_ knew that.”

 

Ray gawped at Ben. “You were RCMP?”

 

Ben’s face went tight. “It didn’t work out.”

 

Fuck. From Ben’s expression, something went really fucking wrong. Maybe Ray should shut his mouth, but....

 

“Seriously, a Mountie? How do you go from being a cop to a porn star?”

 

“He got promoted,” Jake declared.

 

“Natural talent,” Mick added.

 

The two lads cracked up at their own humour. Ben’s lips thinned. Other than that, he wasn’t showing any emotion at all. It was as though the word ‘Mountie’ raised a force field around him.

 

“Quit it,” Harry said. “You know he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry, Ben.” Jake put a hand on Ben’s shoulder apologetically

 

“Yeah, sorry.” They did sound sorry too. Ray felt a twinge of jealousy as Mick patted Ben’s face. Fuck. He was jealous of guys just touching Ben on the face or the shoulder. How the hell was he going to feel in ten minutes’ when they – when he –

 

Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this.

 

“It’s perfectly fine,” Ben said, smoothly. And Jesus Christ, maybe no-one else heard it in his voice, but that man was _such_ a liar. He was a lot of things – but right now ‘fine’ was not one of them.

 

“Okay.” Ray stepped back and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “I need you guys to get comfortable on the couch.”

 

“Ben,” Harry said, holding out a coat hanger. “I know it’s garish, but you won’t be wearing it long.”

 

“It clashes with the couch,” Mick pointed out. “Put him in the white shirt instead.”

 

“You mean the one with all the flounces?” Jake tilted his head, then smiled. “Yeah, that would work.” Harry grunted an affirmative, and held out the shirt.

 

“I’ll look like an eighteenth-century poet,” Ben complained, unbuttoning his plaid. Ray flushed, his mouth going dry at the sight of bare flesh. He wasn't stupid, even if all his blood _was_ heading south. He knew exactly what Ben was doing here. He was diverting attention from the Mountie story. Ben sighed, and shrugged into the offending item. “Everyone will expect me to die of consumption.”

 

“Don’t be such a diva,” Harry grumbled. “You look fine, Lord Byron.”

 

“Yeah. You’re sexy, and you know it. Anyway.” Mick stroked his skin tight T-shirt. “You don’t see me complaining.”

 

Ben looked Mick up and down, appreciatively. “You look delightful, Mick.” Mick preened a little under the praise. Jake pouted.

 

“What about me?” he asked.

 

Ben turned his gaze upon him and smiled. There was something strange in his eyes, a little hungry, more sad. Jake practically melted.

 

Fuck. Ray wanted Ben to smile at _him_ like that. Without the sadness to it.

 

“Okay, guys,” Ray said like he was perfectly calm. “Save the eye fucking till the camera’s rolling.”

 

Ben huffed a laugh, then sprawled on the couch, Jake on one side, Mick on the other.

 

“He’s ready for his close up,” Mick said, and dropped an arm on Ben’s shoulder. Jake leaned up against his side. Ben gave Ray an indolent smile.

_This is going to kill me._

 

“Okay.” He couldn’t put this off any longer. “Three, two, one...”

 

_Action._

~*~

_This is going to kill me._

 

The studio lights were too hot, as usual. They told him that was a good thing. The fans liked to see him sweat.

 

Already Ben could feel his forehead getting damp. He suffered more in the heat than his co-workers. Last year they had been on the other side of Lake Michigan, doing some outdoor shoots on the beach. Ben had been coated in sunscreen, and he still burned in all the wrong places. The actual film that came out of it, ‘Beach Boys’, had proved a big hit, though. So was the behind the scene footage, of him lying on his front, while the boys applied ice and peeled his back.

 

Frankly, Ben’s life was disgusting.

 

His heart was beating too fast again, panic. There had been a time when he could control his heartbeat; now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He had learned things about himself. He had learned that fear helped him get into character. His body didn’t care what the stimuli were these days. Fear, or anger, sex or shame. Most of the time they blurred together.

 

Mick was unbuttoning him; Jake was sliding his hands up and down his leather pants. Between them, they tugged and teased him from his clothes. Their hands were cold and sweaty on his thighs, his back, his chest. Their breath was hot on his skin and Ben sucked in air. Already he was panting. He felt the squeeze in his chest, the tightness in his lungs. The clothes were off, and his vision blurred around the edges.

 

Jake kissed him, right where his pubes were damp, licked around the root of him.

 

Ben closed his eyes. He hated this moment more than anything else. The moment when his body betrayed him and woke up, right where everyone could see it.

 

He tried to escape for a moment, to let his mind wander. Perhaps he should follow Richie’s example, and deliberately drink himself into a hangover, so he didn’t have to do this. He was going to have to talk to Richie, find out if he was alright or if – _oh God._ Jake had just done that thing with his tongue.

_Ignore it. You have to hold on for a long time. Think of something else...._

 

All he could think of was sex. Tonight they would be filming again, and Luke would be there, and Richie would have recovered, and there might be guest stars, and the boys would gang up on him and....

 

Jake did that thing with his tongue again, and Ben whimpered, his eyes opening to a slit for a moment. Jake smirked as he repeated the trick. Ben’s hips snapped forward, his neck arched and _oh God._ Jake kept doing that _thing_ – and Ben suddenly, desperately, wanted to do it to Ray.

 

Jake kept on humming and flickering, and Ben could feel the curl of his smile against his inner thigh. His own balls were tightening and crowding higher, his cock rising. This was worse than even the moment of orgasm. At least then it swallowed him up. At least then, for a moment, he didn’t have to think of anything at all.

 

But now he was thinking. Ben squirmed at the knowledge that there was a new set of eyes on him. Ray was watching through the camera lens. Ben forced himself to open his own eyes and look. Tried to stare straight through the metal eye of the camera, tried to see Ray.

 

Why Ray mattered so much, Ben didn’t know.

_Please, see me,_ he thought and groaned as Jake’s tongue moved where he didn’t want it, where he needed it to be. _Don’t see this, Ray, see me._

 

Mick, behind him, slicked up his hand, and started rubbing it between the cleft of Ben’s buttocks.

 

“Move, Ben,” Mick said, right into his ass.

 

Ben moved, got up onto his hands and knees, losing Jake’s mouth, his own mouth watering in helpless anticipation of being filled. “Good,” Jake praised him, and put his hands on his head, tangled his fingers in Ben’s hair.

 

“You like that Ben?” Mick’s voice was muffled and then his tongue joined his fingers, darting inside him as the fingers stretched him wide. _“God.”_ Ben heard himself curse aloud, and rocked back onto Mick’s hand.

 

"Yeah, he likes it.” Jake shifted, rubbed the tip of his cock against Ben’s lips. Ben’s tongue shot out to chase it. “You should see his face, Mick. He fucking loves it.”

 

And Ben did. He couldn’t pretend anymore that this was just an act for Victoria. He had no pride left; he had gone way past shame. As much as he hated it, he loved it too. He thrust his buttocks back at Mick, felt his own erection bobbing in empty air. Jake was kneeling in front of his face now, jacking himself slow.

 

Mick lined up and started moving his big blunt cock into him. He was slow, thank God. No guest stars today. Sometimes the guest stars weren’t too gentle; they didn't know him after all. Jake and Mick always tried to make it good, though. They’d get carried away near the end, they always did, but by that stage Ben wouldn’t care.

_No. Not yet. Don't get carried away yet._ Because this wasn’t just sex. This was a scene. It was always a losing battle for control – already all sense was bleeding away. But he had to make it good for the viewer. It was what they paid him for.

 

Ben opened his eyes, desperate to focus on the world. He had to hold on. He had to do his fucking _job._ He blinked, and followed the camera again. The viewers liked this; they liked to feel that he was looking at them. And this time he _was_ looking. He was looking at Ray. Ray who was stalking the perimeter of the room, trying to get a better field of vision. Ben tracked the motion with his eyes. He couldn’t make out Ray’s face, but he could see the bulge at his crotch. Ben reached out his tongue again, licked Jake. For a dizzying second, he imagined that it was Ray on the tip of his tongue. Jake groaned, and Ben surged forward, his eyes still fixed on Ray, and swallowed Jake whole.

 

It was a good scene.

~*~

 

 

“Are you alright, Ray?”

 

Ray turned, propped himself against the sink, and dried his face with a scratchy paper towel.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t – I mean, I didn’t do too bad out there, did I?”

 

“You were great,” Harry said. “You got the job done.”

 

“I was shitting bricks.”

 

“Nobody noticed.”

 

Well, of course they didn’t. They were too busy fucking to notice anyone else. The damn roof could have fallen in on them, and they wouldn’t have stopped.

_“You_ noticed.”

 

“I’m paid to notice things.”

 

Ray closed his eyes.

 

“You sure the guys didn’t notice –”

 

“Didn’t notice what?”

 

Ray’s eyes flew open. Ben was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his still bare chest.

 

At least he’d put some boxers on.

 

“I... uh.” Ray’s voice trailed off.

 

Ben raised an eyebrow. “‘Uh?’ Uh, what?”

 

“I....” Shit. “Okay, I’m sorry. I got turned on. That’s all.”

 

That wasn’t it – or not all of it at least. Yeah, he’d been turned on, but he’d also been flat out terrified. And jealous. Angry, even, with Jake and Mick, and – _shit_. Furious with Ben. Which was beyond stupid, because he had no right to be jealous of Ben at all. It wasn’t like Ben owed him anything. If he wanted to be fucked at both ends, what did that have to do with Ray? Nothing, that’s what. He was just the camera guy.

 

Besides, Ben was loving it. Either that or he was the world’s best actor.

 

He wasn’t acting when he came, though. He’d come so damn hard some of it hit the camera lens. The fans were going to love that.

 

And talk about eye fucking. Ray felt like he was the one fucking Ben – Ben had been staring straight at him when he came.

 

Ben frowned. “You were turned on. Why would that be a problem?”

 

“Just –” Ray blew out a gust of air. “It’s not professional; that’s all.”

 

“I see.” Ben’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been a while since I...” _What, got laid?_   “...since I did a shoot like this. I’ll try not to come in my pants tomorrow.”

 

Ben’s mouth quirked at that. “I’ll take that as a challenge then.”

 

“What?”

 

Ben smirked, then turned and walked back down the corridor.

 

“I think he likes you,” Harry said, dryly.

 

“Uh. Yeah.” Maybe he did. But Ray had the feeling Ben didn’t quite trust him either.

~*~

 

Ben was buttoning up his shirt – his ugly, plaid, deliberately unsexy shirt – when there was a knock on the screen door. Mick's voice sounded concerned. “You okay in there, Ben?”

 

Ben froze. Nobody should be here. This was _his_ time, one of the precious few. He was getting dressed. It was time set apart for solitary peace, a rare moment when he could just _be._ He needed space. Being fucked up the ass in front of strangers would do that to you. Ben tried not to think of the look on the new cameraman’s face afterward, or the embarrassment in his voice when talking to Harry. Sometimes Ben forgot how he must appear to normal people.

 

And – what was Mick doing here, for God’s sake? People knew to leave him alone when he was getting dressed after a gig. Mick certainly knew. Was it not enough that he had just fucked him? Didn’t he remember what happened last time he crowded him like this?

 

Ben could only assume that he looked as bad as he felt.

 

Taking a slow, steady breath he continued buttoning up his shirt.

 

“Yes, Mick. I’m here. I’m fine.”

 

Mick poked his head around the screen, then stepped in. White T-shirt, baggy jeans. He looked just like any other kid, tugging his earlobe. Ben itched to tell him not to. It would just make the fresh piercing take longer to heal. He kept his opinion to himself. He had his own nervous mannerisms after all, and besides, he was sick of the boys teasing him for being a mother hen. God knew though, these lads needed someone to look out for them. He just wasn’t up to the act right now.

 

“Is there anything you need, Mick?”

 

“No. Yeah. Maybe. Just – well. You know. You didn’t seem, you know. Like you – like – you know.” For a moment Ben struggled not to smile. Mick was a smart lad, acute and insightful, but deeply insecure. When he was anxious, he retreated into inarticulacy; as a result people underestimated him.  

 

“I’m sorry,” Ben spoke as gently as he could. “I didn’t mean to be sharp. Please. Carry on.”

 

“Yeah, okay. It’s just – you seem off.”

 

Ben’s kinder feelings abandoned him. He stood straighter, tucked his shirt into his pants, buttoned his cuffs. “I apologise if my performance was not up to my usual standard,” he snapped. "I'll try to do better next time."

 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Oh? And what do you mean?” Ben knew his tone was acerbic, but he couldn’t stop. “Please; elucidate.”

 

“Just....” Mick’s voice trailed off, and he tugged his ear again. Ben turned to face him and glared. Part of him hated himself – more so than usual even – for throwing his weight around. Mick didn’t mean him any harm. Ben knew that. But he also knew, too well, his deep-buried fury and the fear that one day he would snap. Just – how did the boys put it? ‘Lose it.’ One day he would lose it – just _lose_ it completely. Crack wide open, start screaming and never stop.

 

He folded his arms around his chest to hold himself in, and sucked in another deep breath.

 

“I’m fine, Mick,” he managed.

 

Mick gazed at him with those too sad, too astute eyes. Ben wished that the young man wasn’t so perceptive and felt his own eyes drift away.

 

“Why are you here, Mick?”

 

Mick stuttered a little. “Well, I just wanted to check that you were okay –”

 

“No. I mean, why are you _here?”_

 

“Uh... you mean in Chicago? Well, we’re booked here.”

 

“I mean why are you _here?_ ” Ben’s voice rose as he felt himself descend into panic. Ridiculous – after all this time, why panic now? Too loud, too angry. _Stop, stop, stop, you’ll say too much..._  "Why are you here doing _this?”_ he pleaded – “I mean, why, why are you _–_ ” _why am I here?_ His thoughts ran up against the brick wall of sheer hard fact. _Stop. Stop. Stop shouting._

 

Mick prickled. His rare temper asserted itself. “Seriously? You’re doing this again? Moral high horse, why don’t we make something of ourselves? Where the fuck do you get off with that shit? Why are _you_ doing this?”

 

Ben’s voice died on his tongue. What could he say? _‘So my son never has to? So he never grows up into us?’_ These people didn’t even know he had a son. Robert was part of a life Ben could never return to, could barely even think of here. Ben closed his eyes and turned to the wall, counted his breaths. When he could control his voice, he spoke.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just having a bad day.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Mick’s voice was apologetic. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in. I know you – I mean, I know you wanted to be alone. I was just worried. I thought maybe we’d hurt you. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”

 

“No. No, I didn’t either. I’m just tired.”

 

“Yeah...” Mick’s voice trailed off. Ben didn’t say anything. After a while, he heard Mick’s footsteps walking away.

 

Tired. Yes. That is all it was. He was just tired. It wasn’t anything else.

~*~

 

This job was taking too damn long. The worst thing was that Ray was getting used to it. When 'the talent' started fucking like rabbits he wasn't even embarrassed anymore. God's sake. What the hell did that say about him?

 

And there was Ben right in the middle of it. And here was Ray, hating what he was seeing, but unable to look away.

 

When the 'Pretty Boys' weren't fucking, they spent most of their time asleep. Not surprising – poor bastards must be exhausted. Not Ben, though. Ben was some kind of super freak, never seemed to get tired. On his days off he ran with Dief – sometimes for hours.

_I wonder what he’s running from._

 

Ray’s only link to real life was making his reports to Elaine. She listened to him moan; she laughed at his jokes, and she never once judged anybody. Not even him. Elaine was good people.

 

"You could try talking to Harry," Elaine suggested once. "He knows who you are."

 

"You're kidding." Ray snorted into his beer. "Okay, so he knows who I am, but he's part of it."

 

"You could try."

 

"Oh, yeah. That would go well. What would I say? ‘Harry, my good buddy. Do you ever feel like puking after a shoot?  You reckon these guys ever have normal sex? You know – because they _want_ to? And oh yeah – what's with all the butt plugs? Do they have to be so sparkly?’"

 

"You got a point." Elaine looked as though she was trying not to laugh. "I guess that would be an awkward conversation."

 

"Damn right."

 

But the _real_ trouble with undercover was that it made Ray a liar. So what if he was in it for the best reasons? He was still a liar. He didn't mind lying to bad guys – they had it coming. But lying to a bunch of goofy messed up kids? Filming them? _Face it, Ray,_ he thought. _You’re a sleaze._ Two weeks into the gig, and Ray wished desperately he could just say to them ‘look, I’m a cop. I know someone’s in trouble, and I’m here to help you. Whatever’s going on, just tell me.’

_Yeah. Like they’d trust the cops._

 

As for Ben. Well, fuck. Ben _really_ didn’t trust him. Ray couldn’t put his finger on it, but whenever he turned around, there was Ben, sizing him up. Looking. A long, quiet gaze, not unlike the wolf’s. Ray could kid himself that Ben was interested – maybe Ben even _was_ interested – but that wasn’t all it was. Ray knew that Ben could smell something on him. Deceit.

 

Which – yeah, he was deceitful. Ray was a good liar. A fucking fantastic liar – that’s why he did so well at undercover. The best liars dressed themselves up in the truth, and Ray was all about the truth. Ray _was_ the Pretty Boys’ cameraman, Ray _was_ turned on by Ben. And despite his nerves Ray knew he was doing a good job with the filming. He’d always been arty farty – a poet on the inside. Whatever. All of that was true.

 

But the bigger truth remained. Ray was a cop.

_And Ben was a cop once too._ Ray kept turning the fact around and around in his head. What was the truth behind that? There had to be a story. Ray couldn’t figure it. Ben was smarter and sharper than the boys – damn sight smarter than Ray – and he came with a lot of experience. In this business, he must have come across a few sharks. Did he think Ray was a shark? Was that why he didn’t trust him?

 

Or was it Ben's cop senses tingling?

_If anyone makes me, it’s gonna be Ben._

 

Ray had no idea what would happen then.

 

He brought it up with Elaine, the next time he met her. As usual, their choice of venue was a sleazy redneck bar. All the bars were sleazy around here, but this one was a total dive. The pipes had frozen, and the proprietor was cursing at the plumber as though it was his fault the place was falling down. It wasn’t the kind of bar one of Harry’s boys would be seen dead in. Ray and Elaine sat at the back, where nobody paid them any attention at all.

 

“So,” Ray cut to the chase. “The Mountie. Why didn’t anyone tell me one of the ‘boys’ was an ex-cop?”

 

“Sorry, Ray.” Elaine scowled at the file. “Can you believe they didn’t know?”

 

“Didn’t know? Fuck’s sake, I was here two minutes, and I found out. Are they really that stupid?”

 

“Yeah, looks like they are.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. If I’d had a clue, I would have told you at the last meet.” She lifted her drink and sipped, keeping a careful eye on the room. “If I’d known how stupid the brass could be I might have stayed a Civilian Aide.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. At least one person on my side has a brain.”

 

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” They stopped talking for a moment as the bartender walked past them to turn up the volume on the game. Under the cover of the hockey commentary she leant in closer to Ray and dropped her voice. “Anyway, here’s what we’ve got. Benton Fraser, born in Nineteen Sixty-One, his parents died when he was six. Grandparents had him for a while, then they died too. Seems like it was a bad winter. A whole bunch of folks up there died of influenza. The Frasers were in a cabin way out in the middle of nowhere. Nobody checked in on them for a few weeks, and when they did....”

 

“God, Elaine. Don’t tell me.”

 

“Okay.” Elaine grimaced. “If it’s any consolation, Mort said at least the bodies wouldn’t have gone off. It was too cold.”

 

“Fuck." Ray felt sick. "He was up there with the bodies?”

 

“At least a week, looks like. If they'd waited much longer, he'd have died of cold. He'd used up all his fuel trying to melt the permafrost so he could bury them.”

 

Ray swallowed, tried not to picture it. Poor fucking bastard. He was what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Jesus.

 

Elaine cleared her throat and continued. “So, he was bobbing around in the system for a few years there –”

 

“In the system?”

 

“Not juvie, nothing like that. Just State Care. Too old to be adopted, people prefer babies to teenagers. So he got placed in Toronto. Couldn’t have liked it much, he kept running back up North.”

 

“Messed up kid.”

 

“Looks like. Not a mean kid, though. Got good enough references to go to RCMP Depot – must have made a good impression, even with the Houdini act. Some Mountie sponsored him.” She looked at the file and shrugged. "Doesn't say much about him, just his name. Buck Frobisher."

 

“Weird choice for a kid from his background. Why would he want to join the RCMP? Was it a family thing?”

 

Elaine shuffled through her papers. “Good question. Maybe. It doesn’t say.” She pulled out a sheet. “I don’t even have much of a service record for him. Canada wasn’t real forthcoming, it’s had stuff redacted. Looks like they’re ashamed of him. Plus he’s moved around a lot, so we don’t have much. Just the bare bones of his career.”

 

“Okay. What else you got?”

 

“Jeez, impatient much? Okay. Well, he’s your typical overachiever. Fits his psych profile. He’s trying to make up for a rough start. Graduated top of his class when he was nineteen. Served with distinction, yadda yadda yah. Then just like that, he resigns. Crashes and burns. We don’t know what triggered it. Like I said, Canada’s being cagey.”

 

“Well, that's not good.” Ray snorted. “I mean, if Canada’s keeping secrets it _must_ be bad.”

 

“Yeah, pretty bad.” Elaine propped her chin on her hand and lifted a photograph from the file. One Benton Fraser, shiny and proud in his red uniform.  It must have been from when he graduated Mountie training school. He looked all of twelve years old. God. Ray was so damn sad.

 

Elaine too, it looked like. “And then the next thing we got is that he’s in prison.”

 

_“Prison?”_

 

“Keep your voice down! Jeez, I can’t take you anywhere.”

 

Ray glared at her. “I think I got a right to be pissed. I’m sharing a room with this guy. I need to know things like if I’m bunking with a criminal.”

 

“He’s not violent if that’s what you’re worried about. He suppressed evidence in some case or other. That's all we got. He turned a blind eye when he shouldn’t have done.”

 

“How long did he serve?”

 

“He got a three-year sentence, served half that, got out on good behaviour. That was about fourteen months ago. And....” She looked bewildered. "Now he's a porn star. Big change of career."

 

“Poor bastard.”

 

“Why do you say that? Maybe he always wanted to be a porn star."

 

"Maybe. But the rest of it too. A cop in prison. That can't have been fun."

 

"You don’t know what he did. Maybe he deserved it.”

 

“I don’t know.” Ray frowned. “He just... I don’t know how to describe it. He seems like a good guy.”

 

“Really?” Elaine’s voice was loaded with sarcasm. “You’ve been a cop a lot longer than me. You should know not to believe every pretty face with a sob story.”

 

“If he was after sympathy he’d have fed me the sob story by now, and he hasn’t said a word. I dunno. It’s not that even. It’s the way he looks out for the other – uh – the talent. I mean, he fusses around, takes care of them. Makes sure they eat their veggies, and cracks out the aspirin if one of them’s hungover.”

 

“The Den Mother?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Elaine plucked the photo back from Ray and pondered it. “Well, we got cameras on him now.”

 

Ray sighed. It was the obvious thing to do for the operation, but he felt bad about it. He was betraying Ben, setting him up. Of course, Ben had nothing to be worried about if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. And if he _was_ the guy they were after then anything that happened was his own fault.

 

Still, Ray felt guilty. “Yeah. I thought you’d put cameras on him.”

 

“So, if he steps out of line, they’ll catch him.”

_Poor bastard. I really hope it isn’t you Ben._

 

Elaine’s next words made him shiver: it was as though she’d read his mind. “I really hope it isn’t him. You think he might be the guy we’re after? I mean, so what if he’s cute, and got a sad story – you honestly think he was a dirty cop?”

 

Ray stared at the photo again. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I know he could fit the profile – but he just comes across as so....”

 

“What?”

 

This had to be the stupidest word ever for a porn star: “Clean.”

 

Elaine laid the photo flat on the table top and sighed. “Yeah. Well, I know I devil-advocated at you, but for what it’s worth, I agree. He does seem like a good guy. I just don’t get him. If you find out what the hell happened to put him here, let me know.”

 

“Will do.” Ray looked back over the sheet of bare facts, then pushed back his chair with a sigh, leaving the file on the table. “Thanks, Elaine.”

 

“You got all you need?”

 

“For now.”

 

“You gonna be a gentleman and pick up the bar bill?”

 

“I’m an equal opportunity barfly,” he said. “You pay it.”

 

“Charming.” She flipped him the bird and picked up the tab.

 

Ray was laughing as he stepped out into the rain, but by the time he made his way back to the studio his smile was gone. Elaine had given him a lot to think about.

~*~

 

“Well, look at you, Darlin’. She wasn’t lying.”

 

Ben said nothing as the woman he had been sent to meet looked him up and down, not bothering to hide her appreciation. Victoria chose his outfits for this kind of meeting. She liked it best when the clients wanted him to 'look slutty.' Some clients preferred him in make-up. He had never reconciled himself to that, although he had no objection to men wearing makeup. Just when it was forced upon him.

 

On this occasion, Victoria decided that the client would appreciate a more sophisticated look. He wondered how many patrons of this particular establishment recognised him. Perhaps not many, given that he had his clothes on. He drew attention anyway. He did know what he looked like, in his charcoal grey suit. Victoria was right. It made him look sophisticated. He fitted right into this place.

 

His contact, on the other hand, didn’t. She looked incongruous in the piano bar. Mid fifties, medium height, plump, bottle blonde. Quite where Victoria had picked this one from Ben wasn’t sure. Texas from the accent.

 

“Sit down, Hon.” She patted the seat next to her.

 

Ben sat.

 

“Tell me ’bout yourself.”

 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell,” he said, in as bland a tone as he could. “You must be far more interesting.” He had found that the best way of distracting people was to get them talking about themselves. He let his hand rest on the bar, close to hers. “What do you do, Amanda?”

 

She beamed under his feigned interest. “Call me Mandy, Hon.” She patted his hand, as though they had known each other a long time. “Well, I’m an administrative librarian, as you know. I catalogue the journalism and nonfiction section at our university and....”

 

Ben smiled and tuned her voice out. He knew enough about her already to know that he didn’t want to know more. Covertly he scanned the bar. Nobody seemed to be listening to them. Even so, his skin prickled with telltale anxiety, as it did sometimes before a summer storm. It had been several weeks since he had been obliged to attend one of these ‘meetings.’ Not since the arrival of Ray in fact. He had allowed himself to become comfortable.

 

Perhaps that was the wrong term. His current situation did not lend itself to comfort. And yet he had been able to forget about some of his more shameful compromises. _Oh, don’t beat about the bush, Benton._ He had been able to forget about his crimes.

 

And now, here he was, having to repeat behaviour that, not many years ago, he would have arrested someone for. He could think of few things more despicable than dealing in drugs.

 

Mandy’s voice was droning on. It seemed that she didn’t like her mother’s taste in wallpaper.

 

In his real life, the life before this – intermission, aberration – whatever the hell it was – in his real life he would have been polite to Mandy. He would have smiled, and extricated himself from her company. He would have found a gentle way to do it, one which would not leave her feeling insulted. He would have disliked her under any circumstances, he knew that much. But at least nobody’s safety would have hung upon his ability to feign interest in a dull woman. He resented, profoundly, the fact that he had to sit here and keep smiling. The only feeling louder than his resentment was fear.

 

He even resented that.

 

He never used to spend so much of his time afraid. Perhaps when he was a child, but he had managed to put fear behind him. Now, though, it was back, and it was a constant state of being. He was afraid of failure, of the consequences to Robert if he couldn’t keep up his end of the bargain. He was afraid of what Ray would think if he found out the truth. Nonsense, really, because Ray’s opinion should not matter a jot. It wasn’t as if either one of them knew the other. But still, Ben feared Ray’s disapprobation almost as much as he did discovery, of going back to jail. What it came right down to was that Ben was afraid of everything. It was ridiculous.

 

At least he had learned to hide his fear well. The only person who could ever see past it was Victoria, and she wasn’t here now.

 

Today, even taking into account his heightened anxiety, Ben’s level of fear was high. And dammit, but he didn’t know why. There was nothing in his line of sight that should trigger his suspicions. He couldn’t hear anything that should worry him, and his ears were better than most. So, why this nagging sense of unease, the near certainty that someone was watching them?

 

He didn’t ignore it, but he put it to one side, as he pretended to listen to Mandy. She really was in fine fettle – she seemed determined to share her entire autobiography. Right now she was criticising her mother for favouring her sister in family politics. Ben made appropriate sounds of sympathy, and sipped his soda.

 

“Yes, that’s terrible,” he agreed as she described her inadequate Christmas present. A television – apparently it was an American brand of lesser value than the named brand she had requested. For someone of her age, she was being remarkably childish. _Does this woman ever stop talking about herself?_

 

The answer would appear to be no.

 

Eventually Mandy finished her Amaretto Sour. In an attempt, maybe, to put off the inevitable, Ben suggested another drink. She turned down his offer, as he knew she would. Damn. The real ‘business’ of the evening was about to commence. He supposed he should be glad that, for once, he wasn’t being sold for sex – though given the way Mandy was looking at him he might still be on the menu. But the truth was that, of all the things he had been forced to do to keep Robert safe, this was the one he most loathed.

 

“Alright Ben.” Her tone became brisk and no nonsense. He thought again that her makeup didn’t suit her. It was too bright and loud for her face. Especially now that her features had hardened into a stern glare. “You got the money or not?”

 

His tongue felt stiff as he forced himself to speak. “I have the money.”

 

“Well, come on up and show it to me, Darlin’. I like what you got, your boss lady is happy, and we all go home smiling.”

 

Ben nodded and got to his feet. He had always known he would do anything for his son, but this was unforgivable.

 

Somewhere in his peripheral vision he caught a movement. Two people in a far corner rising to their feet at the same moment he did. It could be a coincidence, but it caught his attention. _Don't be paranoid,_ he told himself sternly. _If it happens it happens._ His job was to not be caught, and so far he had been good at that.

 

Even so, sometimes he prayed someone would catch him.

~*~

 

Ben was fucking with him. Not literally _fucking_ with him, unfortunately. Ray was keeping it zipped up, thank you very much. But after that first filming session Ben was doing everything he could to drive Ray out of his mind with lust. Bad enough when he was panting into the camera, staring right through the lens like he wished Ray was the one fucking him, or sucking him, or shoving his fingers up his ass. At night time he was just impossible. Ray would lie there, trying not to touch himself, with Ben in the next bed. Ben, breathing heavy in the dark, making little noises that Ray recognised, because he’d filmed Ben making them earlier. Little sex noises in his throat. Low little moans. And then a sharp smell, followed by a sigh. Or Ben talking low, asking him technical questions about filming. It was just an excuse to remind Ray what he’d been watching. Ray wasn’t stupid. He knew what Ben was doing.

 

He just didn’t know why.

 

Third night of filming this week, just over two weeks in, and it felt like Ray had been hard forever. If he didn’t get off soon he was going to die of blue balls. But no way he was doing anything when the guys could walk in at any moment and catch him spanking the monkey. Now, if he could get Ben somewhere private....

 

No. _Fuck_ no. Where the hell had that thought come from? Well, he knew where it had come from, but – _no!_ That would be the wrongest of the wrong. Ben couldn’t be interested in him. Ben was just tormenting him, for some sick reason of his own. If Ben didn’t trust Ray, Ray _really_ didn’t trust Ben. Even with the slight information Elaine had dug up, the guy was a fucking mystery.

 

So, yeah, Benton Fraser was Mr Clean Cut Canada, washing dishes, walking Dief. Reminding the boys to eat enough and clean their teeth. _‘Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Jake. Oh, for goodness sake, it’s not that bad. At least drink some milk... Charming. See if I make you oatmeal again.’_ The guys were right; Ben _was_ a Mom. A Polish Mom, even. It was like he had a saviour complex or something.

 

But – put Benton Fraser in front of a camera and ask him to go for it, and fucking hell, he _went_ for it. He went for it with gusto. He went for it like a junkie jonesing for a hit. He was fucking _desperate_ for it. Not only that, he seemed to drop ten years. Quite how a guy pushing forty looked like jailbait Ray couldn’t figure. In fact, Ray couldn’t figure him at all.

 

Like right now. They’d eaten – takeaway, again – and Ray had left as early as he could, pleading exhaustion. Ben’s speculative gaze followed him the length of the motor home to the narrow little room they shared.  If Ray was lucky he’d be asleep before Ben got in. Or Dief would come back from wherever he was adventuring tonight, and play chaperone.

 

Yeah. What were the chances of that? Dief was probably in on it. He seemed to disappear at the most convenient moment for Ben. Ray shunted his clothes off, stripped down to his boxers, rolled into bed, and pulled the sheets up over him. If he got it out of the way quickly enough he might actually be okay....

 

Damn. He could hear Ben, politely bidding goodnight to the boys.

 

"Don't stay up too late. You don't want to be exhausted in the morning."

 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, Ben. We'll be good."

 

"Well, I should hope so, Mick. It's a big day tomorrow."

 

 Another big day. Ray had been trying not to think about it. Tomorrow, the crew was going clubbing, and guess who had to film it?

 

The door swung open, then shut. There was creak of springs as Ben sat on the cot alongside Ray’s own. _Just my luck I ended up with Ben as a roomie._ Ray wondered what he’d done wrong in a past life for God to hate him so much. Because God clearly hated him.

 

Ray scrunched his eyes shut, and pretended to be asleep. Shit. Where the hell _was_ the wolf when you needed him? Knowing Dief, he was out watering fire hydrants. Or letting the boys feed him donuts, or chasing bitches or....

 

Well, whatever. He wasn’t here, which meant Ben was not going to behave himself. And Ray knew he wasn’t doing a good job pretending to be asleep – he couldn’t breathe properly.

 

Maybe he should just tell Ben to leave him alone – Ben wouldn’t keep this up if he thought he was harassing Ray, would he? But then would that hurt his cover? Maybe he didn’t have to say something. If he lay still, then Ben might take a hint and....

 

“So, Ray.” Ben’s voice was pitched as an intimate murmur, for Ray’s ears only. Ray gritted his teeth. “Have you ever filmed at a club before?”

 

“No.” The word was out before Ray could stop himself. _Shit._ He swallowed. That was a mistake. Not only was he busted – he was supposed to be asleep, dammit – he had just made himself sound inexperienced. If he was who he said he was, he would have filmed in clubs before. “I mean –”

 

Fuck it. It was too late to backtrack now. If he started trying to cover for himself then Ben would be even more suspicious. “No,” he admitted. “No, I haven’t.” 

 

“Hmm.” Ben was moving around in the near dark, clothes rustling as he shed them. Ray didn’t look. “You’ve not been doing this long, have you?”

 

Ray turned his head. Ben was on the bed now, lying on his side, sheets tangled around his hips, his head propped on his arm. His eyes were lazy and hooded. In the gloom he looked stoned and fucked out – even though, as far as Ray could tell, he was the only one of the talent who didn’t get stoned. The guy didn’t even drink.

 

He was fucked out though. Ray had the proof on camera.

 

But... if he was fucked out, then why the hell was he playing with himself? Beneath the sheet, Ben’s hand was moving, steady and slow.

 

“How do you _do_ that?” Ray asked, incredulous.

 

“What?”

 

“That.” Ray made the universal gesture of choking the sausage. “I mean, you’ve come – fuck. How many times today?”

 

Ben tilted his head to one side, as though he was counting, then smiled. “Don’t you remember, Ray? You were there.”

  

“God. I’ve had months where I didn’t get off that many times. Doesn’t it ever...” he gesticulated at Ben’s groin. “You know. Get tired?”

 

Ben glanced down at himself, ruefully. “Not often,” he admitted. “Sometimes I wish it did. It can be an almighty distraction.” He let out a frustrated breath, and pulled his hand back out from under the covers. “Though...” he rolled onto his back, folded his hands under his head, and stared at the ceiling. Ray had seen him doing that a few times, as though he was trying to force himself to keep his hands away from himself. “I’m not expecting much tonight. Just messing with it, I suppose. It’s become something of a compulsion, I’m afraid.”

 

Ray turned onto his side, and watched Ben’s profile. There it was again. He looked sort of....

 

“Are you sad, Ben?”

  

“What?” Ben blinked. “Why would I be sad?”

 

“I dunno. You look kinda sad.”

 

“Really?” Ben rubbed his eyebrow, seeming genuinely puzzled, like Ray had thrown him a curveball. “Do you know, I suppose I’ve never thought about it.”

 

“How can you not think about whether you’re sad or not? I mean, don’t you care about....” God, he sounded like Oprah here. “I mean, what about your feelings?”

 

“What about them?” Ben twisted back onto his side, turning his attention on Ray.

 

“Well, uh...” Ray floundered. “I mean, don’t you think they matter?”

 

“You ask a lot of questions, Ray.” Ben’s voice was calm, but Ray wasn’t buying the act. That man’s eyes were like laser beams. Shit. What was he looking at?

 

“Yeah, well.” Ray blustered. “You know. You’re an interesting guy.”

 

“So are you. I could ask you some questions myself.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray glared at Ben, meeting the challenge in his eyes. “Go on then.”

 

“How long were you married for?” 

 

Ray flinched. “Did Harry tell you?”

 

“No. Harry’s nothing if not discreet. Though, I should have guessed he’d know. He knows most things.”

 

Ray heaved a sigh of relief. At least Harry wasn’t letting things slip. “So, how did _you_ know?”

 

“You wore a ring for a long time,” Ben said. “It’s winter and there’s no tan line. There is, however, a smooth patch on your ring finger. The skin is slightly indented.”

 

“Fuck.” Ray checked his hands to confirm Ben’s observations. “You’re good.”

 

“So they tell me. Besides,” Ben reached across the small gap separating their beds, and took Ray’s hand. Ray felt the touch shiver all the way through him as Ben stroked his knuckles.

 

"Besides what?"

 

“I’ve seen you playing with that finger when you’re...” Ben smirked. “Shall I say, nervous?”

 

 Ray snatched his hand back, flushing. “Say what you mean, Ben. You’ve been torturing me for days. Not nervous, turned on.”

 

 “Quite. So?”

 

“So what?"

 

“So, you were married long enough that just looking makes you feel guilty. Part of you still thinks you’re being unfaithful.”

 

It was true. Everything was fucked up with Stella – and he hadn’t even done anything. He’d just got drunk at a party and flirted with the wrong guy – but Ben was right. He did feel unfaithful. _And besides, I’m not just looking,_ Ray thought, bitterly. _Filming is more than looking._ The truth was he felt like he was taking advantage of the ‘talent.’ Even though they wanted to be there, it didn’t seem right.

 

He couldn’t say that. If he was who he said he was he’d never even think that.

 

Ben nodded, as though Ray’s silence had confirmed something. “So, what was she like?”

 

“Who?” 

 

“Your wife.”

 

Jesus. Ray’s heart was racing. He wanted to go home, but there wasn’t a home to go to.

 

“How do you know I was married to a woman?” Even to him his bluff sounded pathetic.

 

“Please.” Ben’s voice was snippy and offended. “For one thing, gay marriage is not legal anywhere in the North American continent. Nor is it likely to be for at least the next decade. And for a second thing....”

 

“What?”

 

Ben dropped his voice. “The police frown on homosexual liaisons. Since you’re clearly a cop it seems unlikely that you married a man.”

 

“Shit.” Ray bolted upright, and started scrambling out of bed. Busted, busted. He should just get out of here before....

 

“Relax. What do you think is going to happen? You think somebody’s going to – what – ‘whack’ you?” Ray couldn’t figure out if Ben sounded amused or scandalised. “I don’t know what kind of undercover work you’ve done in the past; pornographers we may be, but we’re scarcely terrorists.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ray was sweating. Ben had a point, this wasn’t like being made when you were undercover in a drug gang. Though – fuck, what did he know? Maybe this _was_ a drug gang. The drugs were coming through here somehow. “Okay, so. I panicked. But, shit. Does anyone else know?”

 

“Well, it is clear enough that Harry is in on it, but you knew that.” Ben rubbed his face with his hands like he was trying to wash it clean. He looked exhausted. “I didn’t see any need to worry the rest of the family, since I assume Harry won’t let any harm come to them.”

 

Family. “Wow, you must have had one fucked up childhood.”

 

“Excuse me?” Ben’s voice was shockingly loud. Someway down the corridor a voice yelled out, “Shut up! We’re trying to sleep here!” Ben leaned closer to Ray and dropped his voice. His tone deepened, almost threatening. “What did you say?”

_Shit, Mr Sensitivity I am not._ Of course Ben’s childhood was fucked up. Ray already knew he’d been orphaned at six, lost his whole family by thirteen. Too late to be discrete though. He gritted his teeth and pushed through Ben’s anger. “’Family,’ you said. That’s fucked up. You don’t think this is a _family,_ do you?”

_“‘Team,’_ then.” Ben’s jaw was set. “Does that term meet with the approval of the moral majority, Ray? If Ray’s your real name, that is.”

 

 “Christ, defensive much? Yeah, Ray’s my real name.” Ray paused. “Well, one of them.”

 

“What did your _wife_ call you?”

 

Ray’s hands clenched hard enough that his nails broke skin.

 

“She called me ‘Ray.’” He glared. “And why the fuck are you messing with me?”

 

“Why are you messing with _us?”_ Ben hissed. “What on earth do the cops want with us?”

 

“It’s not you we’re investigating!” At least – Ray hoped it wasn’t Ben they were investigating. Because, Jesus. He did _not_ want Ben to be the bad guy.

 

There was silence as Ben absorbed what had been said. Then – “So what _are_ you investigating?”

 

“Look,” Ray sighed. He couldn’t tell Ben everything, but he could tell him enough. “All I know is that Harry’s worried someone’s been hassling the boys. I mean, for all I know someone’s been hassling _you._ You’re the one who goes missing after all.”

  

Ben’s face went white and tight. “Harry told you that, did he?”

 

“No.” Ray glared. “The ‘boys’ told me that. Believe it or not, I’m good at my job. So, yeah. Maybe they worry about you. You’re gone, and you come back scratched and bruised. You come back black and blue and you don’t say a fucking word.”

 

“What I do in my spare time is nobody’s business –” 

 

“So, what? You got a secret lover? You like it rough?”

 

Ben’s face lips were a hard and narrow line. _Shit._ It hit Ray suddenly – the guy was furious. Too late – Ray couldn’t stop now.

 

“’Cause I’ve seen you,” he carried on, relentless. “You’re everybody’s bottom boy. That not enough for you? You need to be beaten as well?” 

 

Ben’s voice came out bitter and low. “What the fuck does any of this have to do with you?”

 

Ray flinched. Stupid, how wrong it sounded to hear Ben swear. He’d seen Ben being fucked at both ends, but somehow he’d seemed too innocent to swear. He swallowed, and forced himself to continue.

  

“Yeah, maybe you got a point. But I know you’re hiding something. If you know something, just tell me.” He shook his head. “Believe me, it will make my job a lot easier.”

  

“I....” Ben’s anger was gone, dissolved as quickly as it had come. For once he sounded at a loss. “I’d like to be able to help you.” He covered his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

 Ray looked up, sharply. “You know something?”

 

 “I...” Ben rolled, turned his back, his voice muffled. “I can’t say.”

 

“Can’t say or won’t say? Look, if you know what’s going on, you’re not helping anybody keeping your mouth shut.”

 

 “I’m not harming anyone either.” Ben was bleeding guilt. Ray felt the hairs prickle on his spine. He knew a lie when he heard one.

 

 “Yeah? So, who’s whaling on you? What if they start on the rest of your ‘family’?”

 

“She won’t touch them,” Ben said, then froze. His shoulders became, if anything, even stiffer.

 

“She?” Ray scratched the back of his neck. He should know who _‘she’_ was. There was something in the case – something Harry had said – for a moment he nearly had it. Damn. He hadn’t been paying enough attention.

 

“Leave it.” Ben’s voice was flat. “If I thought it would help, believe me, I would tell you.”

 

Ray looked at Ben’s back, as though that would help him figure out what the guy was thinking. “You going to tell them I’m a cop?”

  

“No.” Ben’s voice softened. “They wouldn’t understand.”

 

“But you do?”

  

“I know you are trying to help.” Ben’s shoulders shook for a moment, maybe a silent laugh. “I was a cop once.”

  

“Yeah.” Ray took a deep breath. That was the elephant in the room, after all. “You wanna talk about it?”

  

“No.”  

 

“Pretend I’m your therapist.”

 

Ben cleared his throat. “There’s not much to tell. I’m sure you know most of it already. And if you want the full story you can always ask your handlers.”

 

“I could do. But I’d sooner you told me first.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s not their story to tell.”

 

Silence, for a long moment. “Huh.”

 

“’Huh?’” That was not a sound Ray expected to hear from Ben. One inarticulate syllable.

 

 “You sound puzzled, Ben.”

 

 “No, I mean.... Yes. I mean – You’re the first person to....”

 

“To what?”

 

“To care enough not to push, or snoop.”

 

 “That’s me. Not pushy or snoopy.”

 

 “Which while not a great character reference for an undercover cop, is good to find in friends.”

 

 “So...” Ray moistened his lips. “Am I a friend, Ben?”

 

"Yes. I think so.” Ben’s voice was low, intimate – but not teasing. For once, he didn’t seem to be putting on an act. “If you’ll have me.”

 

“Yeah.” Ray’s throat was tight. It hurt, how bad he felt for Ben. He didn’t even know why. “We’re buddies.” 

 

Ben flopped his head back on his pillow, stared up at the blank ceiling. “You say that," his voice was bleak. "You don’t know me yet.”

 

“I know enough.”

 

 Another low chuckle, which sounded like it hurt. Then – “She drove the getaway car.”

 

 For a second, Ray forgot to breathe at all.

 

“Her plane came down in a snowstorm. Total white out. I tracked her down – but then....”

 

 “What?” Ray whispered.

 

“I’m sick of this story.” Ben flung an arm across his face, as though he was trying to block something out – Ray, his memories. Who knew? Maybe even Ben didn’t know.

 

“Don’t tell it then.”

  

“You need to know it. Know what I’m really like.”

 

“Go on then. She drove the getaway car. White out. Plane down. Then what?”

 

“We... Oh, this is stupid.” Ben’s knuckles were white. “All you need to know is that I aided and abetted a criminal.” He dropped his arm and stared across at Ray, his face a marble mask. “I let her go. ”

 

“She left you?”

 

“For a while.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She didn’t have much choice.”

 

Christ, whoever this woman was, she’d messed Ben up but good. “What happened when she came back?” 

 

“Then,” Ben said, and there was no mistaking his bitterness. “Then I arrested her. But by then it was too late.”

 

Ray held his breath. Into the long silence, Ben spoke.

 

“She’d killed her sister. Stolen her identity, in an attempt to hide from her co-conspirators. The attempt was unsuccessful. A man – her lover as it turned out – a man called Jolly – tracked her down, looking for the money from the bank job. And so she came to me, trying to get my help again, hoping I would help her cover up the crime.”

  

“But you didn’t, did you?”

 

Ben made a noise, not quite a laugh, not quite a grunt of disgust. “I might have been a corrupt cop, and a lovesick fool, but even _my_ stupidity has limits. The last time, I had let her go; within a year of her getting out, she had committed murder. Of course I turned her in.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ray knew even as he said it that Ben would believe it was a lie. He still needed to say it.

 

“Whose fault was it then? I let a criminal go, turned a blind eye to her crimes, and a woman died because I was a slave to... passion.”

 

 “You loved her.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I loved her,” Ben agreed. “Or,” he corrected himself. “I thought I did. The woman I loved was a construct of my own imagination. Now, I realise that I have no idea what romantic love is. I have no point of comparison.” He let out a surprising giggle. “Perhaps it was an inner ear imbalance.”

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Ben swallowed; Ray could hear the click in his voice box from across the room. “When she... when she came back to me, when I realised what she’d done, I turned her in. I turned her in, for all the good it did, and then I handed in my badge.” 

 

“How old were you when you met her?”

 

“Twenty-one.”

 

“Jesus, Ben. You were a kid.”

 

“I’m sure that would comfort her sister.”

 

“Ben.... ”

 

“And after all that, she got away with it.” Ben laughed out loud. “I lost my...” he pulled up short. “I lost everything, and she got away with it. ‘Reasonable doubt.’”

 

“Shit, Ben. I’m sorry."

 

“Goodnight, Ray.” There was finality in his tone. Ray knew there was more to Ben’s story, but he also knew he wasn’t going to hear any more of it tonight.

 

“Ben?”

  

“Yes?”

 

“If you’re, you know... lonely. You want to sleep in here with me? Just to, you know. Sleep?”

 

Ray held his breath. He didn’t know why he’d made that offer, but it felt like the most important thing in the world that Ben say yes.

 

“Just sleep?” Ben’s voice came out as a whisper.

  

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Ray lifted the sheet, and scooted up against the wall, making space for Ben in his bed. Ben lay on his side, facing Ray, but with his head tucked down against his shoulder. 

 

“Night Ben.”

 

“Night.”

 

Ray put his arm around his friend, and closed his eyes. Through all the frustrating nights he had imagined Ben in his bed, he hadn’t imagined this. Yes, Ray was hard, and the man was lying long and strong against him. But somehow Ben didn’t seem all that strong, not in the aftermath of that story.

  

It took Ray a long time to sleep. When he did, he dreamed of vast bewildering spaces, and a wilderness of snow.

~*~

 

 

Ben woke to find himself in bed with somebody’s arm and leg draped over him. He cried out, flailed; flung himself off the bed and landed with a thud. He was cold with sweat, couldn’t breathe. For a terrifying moment, he had no idea where he was, who he was, when, or who the hell with.

 

“Ben?” There was a voice, cutting through his panic and the hard ‘knock knock’ of his heart and his blood. “Ben? Are you alright?”

Ray. That was Ray leaning over the edge of the bed, looking down at him with concern. Nobody was going to hurt him here, and besides, the door wasn’t locked. He could walk out any time he wanted. He was... he was fine. It was just Ray.

 

_Just Ray. Who may or may not be investigating me._

 

Ray, who he trusted, despite everything.

 

  _Ha. The shoe is on the other foot now. If Ray ever finds out what I have done, he will have no choice but to turn me in. I’m the criminal now_.

 

“Ben?”

_And you should never trust anyone you love because they will always betray you in the end._

 

“Ben?”

_Love._ Ben went cold at the realisation. When had _that_ happened?

 

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his hand across his sweaty brow. “Sorry.” He scrambled back across the floor, then stopped. It made him appear weak. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t stop the next words, though. “Bad dream.”

_Don’t show your vulnerabilities, Benton._

 “Uh, you wanna talk about it?”

 

“I think I’ve talked enough,” he snapped. Ray said nothing. Ben looked up at him, an uncomfortable curl of guilt in his stomach. Ray’s face was wounded. “Sorry.” Ben cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice sounded less wrecked. “I’m fine. Just give me a moment to collect myself.”

 

“Uh, okay.” Ray sat up, drawing his legs up to his chin, blanket covering him. Ben closed his eyes. He knew that Ray was aroused. He had known it even last night, when he took comfort in his arms. At the time he had only been grateful that Ray was content to ignore his own condition. He had been kind, and generous with his time and affection. He had listened to him – had seemed not to judge him at all. More than that, he hadn't pushed himself on Ben. Ben perhaps deserved it, having done nothing but torment and tease him ever since he got here. But Ray had taken no advantage of his vulnerability last night. For that, Ben was grateful. 

 

Now though... now Ben wasn’t sure what he felt. In his entire life, he had only fallen in love with one person. Yes, he had been physically intimate with other people. His teenage discoveries, his youthful dalliances – all that had stopped when he met Victoria. He had loved her completely, would have done anything for her.

 

Look how well _that_ turned out.

 

In recent years, yes. Ben admitted it. He had become everyone’s slut. What was it Ray had said yesterday? ‘Everybody’s bottom boy.’ Ray could never understand the compulsion behind Ben's choices. Choices he would continue to make. Victoria had taken everything from him, but at least Ben kept _some_ principles. If a scene demanded someone be fucked, well, better it was him than the ‘boys. ’ He just couldn’t bring himself to... Well. He couldn’t. Twenty-five, twenty-six or twenty-eight was an adult man, he _knew_ that. But he looked at them, and they just looked....

 

They looked young.

 

No. He wasn’t about to ask Jake or Mick, Richie or Luke – any of them – to bend over and let him fuck them on camera. Besides, the reviews were quite clear. It ‘subverted norms’ that the ‘more aggressively masculine and older Canuck’ allowed ‘boys to fuck his pretty mouth’ and ‘well-rounded Canadian ass.’ He was the butt of the joke – literally. Everyone despised the ‘butt boy.’ It certainly amused Victoria.

 

Ben could live with that. He’d lived with worse.

 

And besides. Who knew why the ‘boys’ were doing it? Maybe they were as coerced and blackmailed as he was. Maybe they weren’t. Who knew? Everyone had secrets. His secret was wretched; utterly predictable and as old as the hills. A child. That was all. That was everything. Other men had children. But although his secret was mundane, it was his secret to keep. If anyone ever told Robert why his father had vanished from his life, Ben might well kill them for it.

 

This whole mess was pathetic. The only halfway decent thing he could think of was that Robert still needed him. Robert still needed him, and Ben couldn’t kill himself for the next six years or so. Depending on how long the bitch could play it out before.... 

 

Well. Until all parties were free of it.

_Oh God, don’t let Robert ever find out what his father does to keep him safe._

 

“Stop thinking,” he heard himself say.

 

“What?” Ray looked confused. Ben closed his eyes.

 

In all his life he had only found one way to stop thinking for more than two minutes at a time. Here was a beautiful man – the first beautiful man Ben had seen and truly desired in a long time. Why on earth was he thinking these things? And who cared who fucked whom, who was the one fucked?

_Don’t be stupid. For once in your life do something for yourself, for no reason other than you want to. Just do it._

  

Ben rolled up onto his knees and sat by the edge of the bed, slid his hands under the sheet, and found Ray’s bare feet. Ray froze. Ben started stroking his hands up Ray’s legs. Ray’s breath hitched.

 

“Ben, uh, you don’t have to do this.”

 

Ben withdrew his hands and rested his head on the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry,” he floundered. He of all people should know that a man might have an erection, but it didn't mean he wanted someone to _do_ anything with it. “I didn’t mean to...” what? Embarrass him? Disgust him? Force him into an act he had no desire for? What if Ben had misread all those signals? What if Ray _didn’t_ want –

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Ray said. “It’s just – I don’t want you to do something just because you think you have to.”

_Oh. Is that all?_   “I don’t think I have to.” Ben stroked Ray’s thigh again. _Gentle, be gentle. Don't scare him away._ “I want to." 

 

“You do?” Ray’s voice squeaked a little, and Ben smiled.

 

 “Yes. For the first time in a long time. I want to. Very much.” 

 

Ray blinked at him, his normally blue eyes amber in the low light of the room. _Almost luminescent,_ Ben thought. _He does want this. He’s just afraid to ask._

 

“First time in a long time?” Ray tried to push Ben’s hands aside. “You mean, you don’t want to do what you’re doing?”

 

Ben felt a flutter of alarm. Ray was too astute, too close to his secret. “Let me,” Ben dropped his voice to a dark murmur, and caressed the long line of Ray’s muscular leg. He did want to do this – partly as a distraction – but more than that. For him and Ray both. He laid his hand across Ray’s thigh, slid inexorably higher. Beneath the sheet, Ben knew that Ray was almost naked. He shifted, bringing his head toward Ray’s groin, breathed on it through the fabric. “Please,” he murmured. “Please. I want to.”

 

Ray groaned and closed his eyes.

~*~

 

The music was loud, the lights were strobing, and people were pressing in on every side. Ray moved through it in a daze. He did his job, filming the boys as they ground and wound their way through the crowds. While his body went through the motions a part of him was cut loose and drifting.

 

Yesterday he was a man who had slept with one person in his whole life, and he’d married her. Today he was a guy who’d got his cock sucked by a porn star. And oh God –

 

He should feel guilty about that, but he hadn’t come down yet.

 

The chaos of this club wasn’t helping.

 

“Hey,” Jake swung past him, grinning. His arm was wrapped around a slender Chinese man with long hair and face glitter. “Ray, my man,” Jake slurred, looking happy and stoned. He'd lucked out for the night. At least he hadn't been ‘bought’ by an old fat guy. Jake blew him a kiss and Ray zoomed in as he got intimate with his ‘date.’ The documentary had already pulled in a shit load of money, and it hadn't been filmed yet.

 

The noise was in Ray's head now, and it was making him dizzy. The place was full of guys jostling to be noticed. Everyone wanted to be seen with the ‘boys,’ to get their moment of fame.

 

This whole setup stunk – it was just this side of prostitution. Any closer and the cops would be over this place like a rash. Everyone knew sex was part of the deal, but no-one ever said it.

 

 A couple of grand and the boys were yours for the night.

 

“Ben,” a voice cried out behind him – “look, it’s Ben Fraser.” A round of wolf whistles and appreciative applause broke out, and all the hairs rose on the back of Ray’s neck. Even before he turned he knew what he would see: Ben hanging off the arm of some rich scumbag who had paid in cash. Sudden fury scalded through him; his cheeks flamed. He swung the camera around, and yeah. Yeah.

 

There was Ben. Next to a tall, solid looking white guy. The guy had his arm around Ben’s shoulders, a predatory look on his face and a slight curl of a smile. There was something familiar about him. Maybe Ray had busted him, or seen him on TV. He couldn’t place him though – he was too damn angry. The guy was _smug._ His knuckles were white he was hanging on to Ben so hard. He was gonna leave bruises. Ben’s arm was looped around the bastard’s waist, his hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

 

Ray hated the guy so much that his hands were shaking as he tried to frame the shot. He hated the guy with all his passion. Hated him with every fibre of his heart. Hated the tight T-shirt and the casual street look and the carefully faded denim which was worth more than Ray’s whole wardrobe. Hated the tight ass, the muscles and... just hated. _Hated_ the guy.

 

And Ben. _Christ,_ how he hated Ben. Ben, the fucker who sucked him off like Stella never had. Ben, on his knees, rocking with it, to some music only he could hear. Ben, who looked like there was nothing, _nothing_ he ever wanted to do in his whole life but suck Ray’s cock. Ben whose hands were so warm on him, holding him through it, stroking, soothing, driving Ray mad. Ben, his eyes a bright dark blaze, all shine and happiness, all blown black pupil. Ben, who looked like he was praying. Ben, who looked like an angel. Ben, who groaned and closed his eyes when Ray bucked up into him, and couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Ben, who swallowed it like wine when Ray flooded in his mouth.

 

Ben. _God,_ he hated Ben.

 

Ben, the fucker who hadn’t let Ray kiss him this morning.

 

Ray’s mouth was dry, his heart hammering in his ears, because now – oh yeah, _now_ Ben remembered how to kiss a guy. There he was, tilting his face to a kiss, and it wasn’t Ray he was kissing. The guy had his fist in Ben’s hair; the other hand was cupped around Ben’s groin, massaging.

 

Ray bit his tongue so hard he tasted metal, and zoomed in on the fucker’s hand. Not massaging, no. Nothing so gentle. Rubbing Ben through his slacks, hard enough that Ray winced in sympathy. The fucker was treating Ben like a piece of meat, right where everyone could see it. Ray flicked the camera sights higher, saw Ben’s face tighten – in pain maybe, or humiliation.

_Do your fucking job Ray_. And he was trying, he really was. He narrowed the focus, zooming in closer on Ben’s face.

  

Ben's eyes were squeezed shut. He was biting his lip.

_Shit. Shit, the bastard’s hurting him_ –

 

And Ray lost it. Totally fucking lost it.

~*~

 

Mark was rougher than usual tonight, and they hadn’t even started yet. He was always rough these days, more so when they were in public. It was hard for Ben to believe they had been friends. Harder still to believe that they had been each other’s tentative firsts, a long time back when sex was fun. They had spent so much time together that winter. Stupid experimentation – more like games than love making. Fumbling and giggling, hoping their parents or grandparents wouldn't find out.

 

Somewhere along the way Mark had lost that childhood innocence. Ben couldn’t see a trace of the boy he used to know.

 

It went both ways, of course. Ben had travelled a long road since then; he had no idea what Mark saw when he looked at him. He didn’t even recognise himself.

  

“Ben,” Mark murmured in his ear, mouth close enough to raise the hairs on the back of Ben’s neck. “Since you’re on the clock, how about you make an effort this time? You do remember how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

 

Ben said nothing. He spoke as little as he could to Mark these days. There was nothing he could say, nothing that Mark would hear anymore. Besides, Mark was right. He _did_ need to make a good entrance. It was his job after all.

 

He forced himself to smile at Mark, although the effort made his cheeks ache. Mark smiled back, a cynical look on his face. He had to know how much that smile cost Ben.

 

“You can do better than that,” he said, tilting Ben’s head back with a light finger under his chin. “Put a little passion into your performance this time, or you’ll have to try some of the product. That usually makes you horny.” Ben shuddered, and Mark laughed. “Well, just keep it in mind. I saw the last video. Anyone would think you didn’t love me anymore.”

 

Ben wrapped his arm around Mark’s waist, slid his hand into his back pocket.

  

“Better,” Mark said, sliding his own possessive arm around him. “Come on then. Make me look good.”

 

Ben leaned into Mark’s embrace and let him pull him into the crowd. They _did_ look good together. They always had.

  

Somebody – drunk or high – pushed up against Ben and licked his cheek as his friends cheered him on. Mark glared at the kid, then leaned in close and bit Ben’s ear lobe. _Mine,_ the gesture said. The sharp pain was followed by a hot, wet tongue; Mark’s this time. It probed unpleasantly into the whorls of Ben’s ear. Ben gritted his teeth and tried to breathe calmly. Bad enough that this was happening, and he couldn’t say no, worse still for it to be played out in public like this. 

 

“Come on, Ben.” Mark gripped his elbow and steered him further into the room. The hubbub surrounding the rest of the crew must be centred around Ray. He was filming tonight; everyone in this place wanted to be on camera, even if just for an instant. Which meant that Ray was going to see him with Mark.

  

It shouldn’t matter. Ray had already filmed him doing a lot more than making out with some guy in a club. But this was worse. Much worse.

 

This morning Ben had, for the first time in years, performed a sex act just for the pleasure of it. Even the fact that he hadn’t come was perfect. For that sweet space of time, he had been – well, almost happy.  

 

Ben knew he should have seen it coming. In his experience happiness never lasted. He just hadn't expected Ray to be the one to spoil it. Poor Ray. He didn't know, and he'd spoiled everything. Ray had rolled over and reached out a hand. Gentle, so gentle, and he’d touched Ben’s cheek. He’d moved his face toward him.

 

Ben couldn’t kiss him. Just couldn’t. So many people had kissed him, and he'd kissed so many people back. It hadn’t meant a thing. Ben couldn’t stand it if Ray kissed him. What if he kissed him, and it was just like every other kiss? Because _she_ had kissed him, and he had thought that she loved him. She had kissed him, and it meant nothing at all.

 

So Ben had stood, and tidied himself up, and left the room.

  

Ben couldn’t see Ray’s face through the camera. Through the press of bodies, the strobe lighting, the man’s feelings were as loud as if he was screaming. Ray's shoulders were tense, and his motion jagged as he rounded on Ben. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to haul off and punch him.

_He's just framing the shot._

 

Ben closed his eyes and let Mark pull him by the hair, bend his neck back and stoop to kiss him. Ben felt the familiar twist of nausea as Mark pressed the heel of his hand against his zipper. He was rough, almost too rough. It hurt. Yet, even with the shame, the jeering and cheering of men on all sides, there he could feel it. A loathsome flicker of heat and arousal. Mark always had known how to touch him. Ben felt himself stiffening against his hand. He swallowed convulsively. It would never do to be sick in the middle of a public shoot. Mark’s tongue was in his mouth. For a brief, dizzying moment Ben wished that he was dead.

 

Then all hell broke loose.

~*~

 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Harry exploded, pushing them both into the club manager’s office. “You’re supposed to be doing your jobs out there! I turn my back for two minutes, and you start a _brawl?_ Do you know how bad that makes us look?”

 

Ben stood there like a statue, staring at his feet. He hadn’t even wiped the blood off his face. Bloody nose and split lip, eye already pinking toward purple. Red running off his chin, dripping onto the polished oak floor.

 

“I’m sorry,” he glanced at Ray, then away again, with a look of shame.

_What are you apologising for?_ Ray couldn’t even ask the question. _You sorry you fucked up on the shoot, or are you sorry you made me watch that guy treat you like shit, or are you sorry I hit you?_

 

Ben shouldn’t be the one apologising. He was only doing his job. It wasn’t his fault that Ray fell so hard and so easily. God’s sake, one blow job and he was carrying on like the jilted lover. Ben couldn’t have known how fucking needy Ray was.

  

“I’m sorry too, Ben – I just – I didn’t mean to hit you. You know that, don’t you? I was going for the other guy.”

 

“Of course he knows you were going for the other guy!” Harry barged back in. “The whole damn _club_ knows you were going for the other guy. Why else would Ben have jumped in front of him?”

 

“Because he loves him so much?” Ray heard his voice, full of hateful sarcasm, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Or maybe because he used to be a cop, and it used to be his job to protect people, and you took that away from him?”

 

Harry’s face turned dangerous. “He wasn’t a cop when he started here. Don’t you start that sanctimonious crap with me. Who do you think you are to judge what we do? You think Ben’s a child, that he doesn’t know what he’s doing here?”

  

“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” Ray snarled back, “but I do know that sleazeball was hurting him. And you, you sleazy fuck, you didn’t do a thing about it.”

  

“And neither did Ben,” Harry snapped. “If he doesn’t want to do something, he doesn’t have to do it.” Harry threw his arms up in disgust. “And what makes it worse, the guy’s a celebrity – we can’t brush it under the carpet and hope it goes away. Everyone in the industry is going to gossip about this one.” Harry sighed. “We’re going to have to give Mark his money back.” 

 

“Good!” Ray was shouting. “I don’t care _who_ the guy is. Maybe you could think about not treating Ben like he’s just some sex toy or something... Jesus!” He spun on his heel and rammed his fist through the panelling of the office door. It didn’t help. 

 

“Great,” said Harry. “Now we have to pay for that too.”

 

“Oh yeah? So now Ben’s the same as the fucking _door?_ Like he’s just some object, and you can do anything you like to him?”

 

“Ray.” Ben’s voice was tight. “In case it has escaped your attention, I _am_ just some object, and anyone _can_ do anything they like to me. And if Harry wants to sell me for the night to the highest bidder, well, I don’t have any say in the matter.”

 

There was a frozen moment of silence. Before Ray could speak Harry broke in, sounding as appalled as Ray felt.

 

“Ben.” The big man’s voice broke. “This is the first time you’ve said anything. You know I don’t use people who aren’t willing. Are you telling me you don’t _want_ to do this?”

 

The curl of a bitter smile twitched at the corner of Ben’s mouth. Blood was oozing from his split lip and nose; his right eye was beginning to puff up. Other than that his face was perfectly composed. “What I _want_ is completely irrelevant.”

  

“Jesus.” Harry sat on the edge of the desk and stared at Ben like he had never even seen him before. “What the hell are you doing this for then?”

 

“Does it matter?” 

 

“Of course it matters, Ben! If you got a problem, just tell me. What can I do?”

  

Ben’s face twisted into a full-blown sneer. “Same thing you always do. You can pay me.”

 

 “Money?” Ray managed to speak out. “You hate this so much, and you’re doing this for _money?”_  

 

“Why does anyone do anything? Of course for money.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” Ray swallowed, a hot lump in his throat choking him as he spoke. “You don’t seem the type.”

 

“And what type would that be, Ray? A cock sucker?” Ray flinched. “You know nothing about me.” Ben turned on his heel. “Now, if nobody has any objections, I’m going to do my job.”

 

Ray was shaking. Anger and fear and – yeah – why was that?  What the fuck was _he_ frightened of?

 

It was the anger that came out. “Your job? What – you’re going to find that bastard and suck his cock?”

 

“I’m trying to stop him from suing us all. Now, leave me alone.”

 

“You’re actually going _back_ to him?” Ray stepped in front of the door. His hands were clenched; his knuckles ached, and his nails bit into the palm of his hands. Ben looked at his fists, then back up, straight into his eyes.

  

“Are you going to hit me again? I ask because I need to tell the makeup artist how much damage she will be required to cover up for the next shoot.”

 

Ray went stone cold with shock and stepped away from the door. Ben pushed past him, his arm brushing against him, eyes front, not saying a word. Ray opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, some way to stop him. But Ben was out already, shutting the door behind him.

 

The careful snick was louder than if he’d slammed it.

~*~

 

 

The thing with Mark went badly.

 

Ben had expected that, after the debacle at the club. He was grateful, at least, that this time Mark let him stay sober. Several months ago Victoria had approached Mark, claiming she wanted a 'business partner.' Within a matter of hours Mark had been shown 'the product,' and witnessed its effects first hand. He had been impressed, to say the least.

  

Ben knew why she had approached Mark – he suspected that Mark knew it too. Victoria didn't need a business partner – she was in it for the humiliation. She remembered all about Mark. Ben, like a fool, had told her everything.

 

Why would he have kept anything from her, after all? He had loved her.

  

It took longer for Ben to understand Mark's motivation. He figured it out in the end, after a particularly awful evening in their company. It was simple chemistry; Mark had a lot in common with Victoria. Ben didn't know what he had ever done to him, but for whatever reason Mark resented him. He maybe didn't hate him as much as Victoria did, but he was more physical in his expression of displeasure. 

 

And they did both so like to be entertained. For whatever reason, Ben amused them. If Mark hadn't been gay Ben would have said he and Victoria were made for each other. The two looked great at parties. 

 

Ben waited until Mark was asleep, then let himself into the en suite bathroom, to clean up as best he could. An hour ago Mark had passed on the message that Victoria wanted him to come alone.

_"What do you think she’s got planned for you tonight, Ben? Maybe we should make a date of it, just the three of us, what do you think? Or we could get some friends. You’d like that. I enjoyed myself last time. What do you say?”_

 

Ben stood in the shower, leaning his head against the wet tile as the water sluiced down his back. It had been a long time since he felt clean, but at least the warm water eased out the worst of his muscular aches. He winced, and probed the cuts and bruises left by Ray’s ill-judged attempt to – what? Protect him? Avenge him? Knock him down? Whatever Ray’s motive – and Ben doubted Ray understood it himself – these injuries didn't hurt. Or not in the same way as Mark's did.

 

Ben traced the sting of his split lip. _‘Un petit bobo,’_ his mother would have called it. ' _Mon pauvre petit garçon’_ she would have said, in her convent French, and kissed him better. Ben barely remembered his mother. He remembered her voice. The way she would sing in the kitchen, nurse grazes on his knee. He remembered her smile, her work-calloused hands. He wondered what she would think of him now.

 

Perhaps better not to know.

 

The sting of the water on his lip, the lingering metal-taste of the blood – they grounded him. Ray would leave. Ben knew that absolutely. For now there was proof that Ray had been here. Ben wished that he had hit him harder. If Ray had hurt him enough it would have spared him one more shoot. More than that, he might have left a permanent scar. There would have been something to remind Ben that someone had once looked at him and seen past his face.

_Cuts and bruises fade,_ Ben reminded himself. _Ray will go, as he has to. And I will let him go._

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed himself off the wall. The water sluiced the suds from his hair, eased the pain in his muscles. Yes. He could accept this. Ray would go when his assignment ended. And Ben would make sure that the assignment ended unsuccessfully. Ray would never learn a thing. Even if, yes, Ben wanted to be caught. He could admit that to himself now, although it would mean he went back to prison. He deserved punishment, and at least there he could spend as much time as possible in solitary. He had survived prison once; he could survive it again. And if he didn’t survive it, if he did take one of the many ways out, at least he wouldn’t be compelled to break the law.

 

In that, there would be a modicum of peace.

 

No. He knew he couldn’t let himself be caught. He hated what he did, but he would continue to do it, for Robert’s sake. He would continue to act as the go-between for Victoria and her customers. He would continue to lie to Ray, to push him away. He would lie, and Ray would go. And when it was all over _she_ would still be there.

  

Victoria. 

 

By the time he was ready to see her, dawn was easing over the horizon. He watched himself fastening his tie in the mirror. His face was placid. She would see through it, of course. She knew him so well. But she didn't know everything. She didn't know he loved Ray. Ray didn’t even know. Ben hadn’t told him.

  

He never would.

~*~

 

 

Ray didn’t hang around long after Ben left. Harry tried to call him back, and Ray flung his hand up in a dismissive gesture. He was shaking with fury. _Shut up Harry or I’ll kill you._ He didn’t say it, but Harry must have seen it in his eyes. Ray pivoted on his heel, slammed his way through the door then walked, head down. Fast. He had to move fast, or he'd hurt someone. He couldn’t be in the same room with the man. He couldn’t have been in the same room with any of the ‘crew’ – or as Ben had once called them ‘family’.

 

How could Ray not have known this thing about Ben? That it was _Ben_ who was the blackmail victim, that it was _Ben_ he was investigating?

 

Jesus. Had any of this fucked up ‘family’ even known that Ben didn’t want to be here? Did they care?

 

Didn’t matter. _Ray_ should have known. He squeezed his fists, flexing the bruised knuckles out. Bruised by thumping Ben. The damn door didn’t count. He’d have smashed his fist through concrete if it helped. God, what was _wrong_ with him? He’d told himself he was going for the bastard who’d bought Ben, but how could he know that was true? Had some sick part of him actually been aiming at Ben? Ray had always had a jealous streak. Some detective _he_ was. He didn’t even know himself.

 

And shit. He’d even mentioned it to Ben, only the night before. Mentioned his disappearances and his bruises, and the silence. He could have reached out to Ben then – offered to help. He could have done _something._

 

Instead he’d asked Ben to get into bed with him. It had never crossed his mind that Ben might be programmed, or brainwashed, or – fuck. Maybe Ben was – what do you call it – Stockholmed _._ Maybe he couldn’t have said ‘no’ if he’d wanted to. Sure, when Ray had made that offer he had said ‘just to sleep.’ But he _mus_ t have known something would happen. Or he should have known. If Ben had been a chick, Ray would never have put him in that position. He'd have known asking a sex worker to get into bed with him came with strings attached.

 

Was that why he did it? What the fuck had he been thinking?

 

Now when he thought of that blowjob, the one that took him apart and made him into someone new, he felt sick. At the time, it had meant so much to him – first one ever that wasn’t Stella, first time ever with someone else. Stupid of him, so fucking stupid. He had thought it meant something to Ben too. But – oh God. No wonder Ben hadn’t kissed him. Ray was just some other guy who’d fucked him. Even though Ben had been the one who started it, the one who insisted, Ray felt like a rapist.

 

Two o’clock in the morning and Ray knew he couldn’t sleep tonight. He might never sleep again.

 

He punished himself. It was all he could do. He went back to the trailer, to the cramped little editing suite, at the back. Started running tapes. Actually _looked_ at the tapes. Looked at the expression on Ben’s face, as he was fucked, as he sucked, as he came.

  

How hadn’t he seen that? That shine in his eyes that Ben’s fans loved. That they talked about on message boards. That was mentioned in reviews.

_‘Ecstatic,’_ they said. _‘Beautiful.’ ‘Desperate.’ ‘Begging for it.’_

  

Everyone had an opinion what those eyes meant. Anyone could see it, passion bleeding out, but nobody had translated it yet. Ben did everything they told him to and took it.

  

_‘Don’t come yet.’ ‘Spread ’em.’ ‘Suck me.'_

  

And there was Ben kneeling on all fours, groaning to the rhythm. The sound of skin slapping skin. And whoever fucked him would drive in harder and harder. They'd shove him forward again and again onto the other guy’s cock in his mouth. Sometimes they’d take turns at both ends, one after the other. Other times they would sit back and let him settle on their laps. His eyes would close as he eased himself down, and they'd let him fuck himself on their cocks. Some guy’s mouth would close on his dick, or some other guy’s hands curl around his hard on for the money shot. Three or more of them sometimes, every part of Ben being used and his eyes wide shut.

 

_‘Harder,’ ‘that’s right,’ ‘take it,’ ‘come on, come on, come now.’_

 

And each time the moment of orgasm ripped through Ben it drowned him like a tide. Each time he gave it up, he gave it all up, looked like he was dying. But now when Ben opened his eyes, Ray could see it. Translate it. That wasn’t bliss, or satisfaction, or any pleasure at all.

 

That was shame.

 

How had Ray filmed these scenes? How had he looked straight at Ben while it was happening and not known what he was looking at? 

 

By the time Ray finished throwing up, it was six in the morning. He phoned his handlers, all the time thinking he was betraying a trust, but knowing he had to tell them. Ben was the victim here. Whoever was doing this to him – they had power over him. So, yeah. Ben was the victim, but he was maybe the bad guy too.

 

For once the bastards came through; they had been doing research of their own. Ray closed his eyes as they filled him in on Ben’s background. Victoria Metcalf, who she was to Ben, what the bitch was doing now. Harry’s silent partner – the money in this ‘business.’

 

Why the hell hadn’t Ray thought to investigate her?

  

But more than any of that, they told him about the son. Ben was a father, Victoria the mother – if you could call that spider a mother at all. Thing was, the courts did. _That_ was what she had on Ben. She was the one with custody.

_She has Ben’s son._

 

God, she must hate Ben. Ray knew criminals, he could see it all now. She thought the world owed her. Didn’t think there was a line she couldn’t cross.

 

But Ben had a line. He had turned her in for murder after all. Victoria wouldn’t have seen _that_ coming. Over ten years of Ben protecting her, waiting for her – and then, from her point of view, he had betrayed her. So what if the great betrayal was hers? She’d murdered her sister for God’s sake. What on earth had she expected Ben to do?

 

So, yeah, Ray knew it in his head, but in his gut he couldn’t understand it at all. How the hell could Victoria hate Ben so much? Why on earth would anyone do all that to another human being?

  

And God. No wonder Ben was such a Mom. He was missing his kid. He was protecting his kid.

 

Ray buried his head in his hands.  

~*~

 

 

She was in the penthouse suite, her black lace underwear barely concealed by a semi-transparent negligée. Her pose reminded him of the Venus of Urbino, reclining on the bed. He doubted even Titian could have done her justice. Ben had loved her beauty once; now it just made him shiver. She looked like the innocent flower, but was the serpent under it. For a moment, the paraphrase amused him. He suppressed the urge to smile. Lady Macbeth was all too apt a metaphor for Victoria.

 

Perhaps in reaction to her stint in prison Victoria had developed a taste for luxury. Ben’s footfalls made barely a sound as he padded over the plush white carpet. To Ben, who had always been used to a Spartan existence, her preferences bordered on the obscene. Not that he was in a position to judge anyone for obscenity these days.

 

“Come here.” She sat up, folding one smooth long leg over the other. “Let me see you.”

 

Ben walked over to her, unbuttoning his shirt, as custom demanded. She liked him to dress well for her, but when they were in her private spaces, she preferred him unclothed. She also knew that he was more comfortable with order rather than clutter. It had taken a little while for her to train him out of his engrained habit of neatness, but now he let his shirt slide to the floor. He toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, then stood before her so she could unbuckle his pants. She did so with a smile on her face. A smile that Ben had once loved, that now made him feel sick. 

 

“Step out of them,” she murmured. “And your boxers. Leave them on the floor.”

 

He did so, and stood with his head bowed, waiting for the next order.

  

“Bed,” she said. “Lie up next to me.”

  

He got up on the bed, and she tugged him to her, pulled his head down, so it rested on her shoulder. To someone who didn’t know them it would have looked like an intimate moment, sweet perhaps, domestic. Ben’s muscles were hard as iron, his head beginning to ache from the tension in his jaw. Her room was cool – not cool enough that it would normally be a problem to him – he had grown up in the Territories for God’s sake – but cold enough that Ben shivered. At least, he told himself that it was the cold.

 

“Relax,” she said, trailing her fingers across the bruises on his face, the cut lip. “Ouch.” She sounded sympathetic as she leant forward and bit it lightly; a prelude to a kiss he couldn’t refuse. He opened his mouth and let her explore it. She withdrew, still smiling, then kissed his throat, sucking at the fresh bruises where Mark had squeezed. “You like that, don’t you, Ben?” He said nothing as she continued down to his chest, where she circled and pinched his nipples: first the left, then the right. He was used to it, managed not to wince though he knew that she might take it as a challenge, pinch harder, maybe twist. 

 

This time she didn’t. “Relax,” she said again, as his muscles tightened. _Fight or flight response,_ he thought, _and I can do neither._

“You need a drink, Ben,” she smoothed her hand again over the bruises on his ribs. “Mark went to town tonight, didn’t he? He doesn’t usually mark your face.” 

 

Ben grunted, not an affirmation or denial. She didn’t need to know about Ray hitting him – though Mark would tell her soon enough. And she didn’t need Ben to talk. She leant across him, her soft breast brushing his chest. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth. He could hear the liquid tinkling into the glass. She knew he hated alcohol, particularly the sharp burn of whiskey, and it amused her to make him drink it.

  

“Come on, Ben,” she soothed. “Lie back, we’ll watch a show.”

  

 _Oh God. Not this again._ She was in a particularly cruel mood this morning. He took a hard swallow of the liquor, felt his eyes water, but took another swallow anyway. “Good boy,” she said and refilled his glass. “Now,” she said. “Let’s watch. This is one of my favourites.”

 

She snuggled up to him, and pressed play. “Don’t close your eyes,” she said. “I like to see you watch.”

 

Ben lay back against the pillow and stared, as the familiar images appeared on screen.

 

“You like it like that, don’t you?” Her hand drifted down to his limp penis. She still sometimes tried to get a response out of him. She had even managed a few times, back in the beginning. Tonight it was flaccid, to his relief. Not a twitch. She snorted in disgust. “You wouldn’t think that was you up there, so hard and eager. You never have anything for me these days.”

_And I won’t,_ Ben thought, as he watched himself being fucked on screen. _At least I have that much self-respect left._

  

“Watch,” she said. “Drink up, and don’t look away.”

 

Ben drank.

~*~

 

Ray felt like he had been waiting forever. At twenty past one in the afternoon the ‘click, click’ of Dief’s paws sounded down the corridor. Ray looked up at the door, in a mixture of trepidation and hope – No. Dief was alone, and looking dejected. Seemed he had been looking for Ben too.

 

The first of the boys arrived about half an hour later. Luke. The rest trickled in over the next few hours, in various stages of exhaustion. Richie was still drunk. Ben was right to worry about him, Ray thought. Even though the only person he could worry about right now was Ben himself.

 

Harry greeted each of the boys with water, an aspirin in Richie’s case, and a health questionnaire. Ray felt numb as he listened to the 'boys' going through their answers. Sometimes the people who hired them got out of hand. Harry was checking that their 'dates' had gone okay.

_Health and safety for porn stars – who'd have thought it?_ Ray carried on staring at the door.

 

Everything was fine. Ben was going to be here any minute. Except for Richie the boys were no worse for wear. Everything was okay.

  

Yeah. Right. Apart from the fact that Ben still hadn’t come back. 

 

Harry sighed gustily and rubbed his meaty fists into tired eyes. Ray knew how he felt.

  

Neither one of them had said anything to the ‘boys’ about their concerns for Ben. Ray and Harry had managed a terse conversation and called a truce. After all, they were both on the same side.

 

“Well,” Harry muttered. “At least he knows where we’re at. It’s not the first time he’s been late.”

  

Ray hadn’t known Ben long at all, but somehow that didn’t seem in character. Neither did being a porn star, now that he knew what he knew. He clenched his fists, anxiety spiking in his chest. “We can’t go now,” he protested. “What if that guy hurt him?” 

 

“What guy was he with?” Jake was gnawing his thumbnail, lying with his head on Mick’s lap. Mick’s eyes were closed, and he was lazily carding his fingers through Jake’s hair. He opened his eyes at Jake’s question.

 

“He was with Smithbauer last night.”

 

Smithbauer. Ray knew he’d recognised the guy. Washed up hockey player.

  

“That was the guy.”

 

“Oh great.” Richie woke up for a moment, gave a woozy shake of his head, then closed his eyes again. “Yeah, well, you won’t be filming Ben for a while. Smithbauer can be rough.”

 

“What do you mean ‘rough’?” Ray’s heart was in his throat.

  

“No, no, it’s not like that.” Jake glared at Richie as he tried to reassure Ray – and himself too, it looked like. “You’ve seen Ben. He’s a big guy –” 

 

“He’s not as big as Smithbauer,” Ray snapped. “I’ve seen the guy. He’s a tank.”

 

“It's okay,” Jake insisted, looking uneasy. “Ben’s big enough.”

 

 “In more ways than one,” sniggered Luke.

 

“Shut up, Luke,” Jake snapped, then looked back to Ray. “Look, if Ben didn’t like it, he could stop it. And he wouldn’t keep going back to Smithbauer. It’s not like he’s being forced into this.”

  

Ray swallowed a hot hard lump of anger. “Oh yeah? You sure about that? Because from what I’ve seen –”

  

Harry shot a look at Ray followed by a curt shake of his head. Ray fell silent. _Oh shit. I’m fucking up big time here._ He had to stop blurting out the first thing on his mind, or he’d blow his own cover. Thank God Harry stopped him before the dam broke. Because Ray felt like arresting everyone in sight – or shooting them.

_Stop it Kowalski. Not their fault._

 

At least he _hoped_ it wasn’t their fault. As far as he could tell none of the boys had a clue that Ben was being forced. Though, Jake sounded worried, now Ray thought of it. And wasn’t Jake the one who tried to say something to Harry? Aw, shit. What did Ray know? He’d already misjudged everything. 

 

Dief whined, cocking his head and looking up at him with questioning eyes. Ray scratched behind the wolf’s ears and blinked hard.

  

“You okay, Ray?” Jake was looking at him with some concern. “Sorry,” Ray mumbled. “Just tired, that’s all. Didn’t get much sleep.”

 

“Who kept you up all night?” Luke was still sniggering. Ray didn’t know if he was still high on something, or just being a prick for the sake of it.

  

“Nobody,” Ray said. “I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

 

“You’re pining after Ben,” Luke shook his head. “I heard what happened last night. You were one jealous puppy.”

 

“Will you shut the fuck up, Luke!” This time, it was Mack snapping at Luke. Even Richie opened his eyes and scowled.

 

“Yeah, all of you, shut up.” Harry hauled himself from the couch to an upright position. “It’s time for us to go anyway. Like I said, Ben will find his way back home.”

 

Would he, though? Even if Ben did find his way back to the RV, Ray didn’t think that it was home.

~*~

 

 

Ben woke to such a profound sense of despair that he could hardly breathe.

 

_I can’t do this anymore._

 

Victoria was eating blackberry crepes, flipping through the newspapers. From the light, it was mid afternoon. She barely acknowledged Ben’s groan, just lifted the sheets so he could make a bolt for the bathroom.

 

After a while, she called through to him.

 

“If you’ve quite finished puking in there, I’d like to take a bath.”

 

He hauled himself to his feet, flushed the toilet, rinsed his mouth out and spat. There was a spare toothbrush on the side, but even the thought of that made him nauseous.

  

“You could join me if you want,” she offered, as she walked naked into the bathroom.

  

“No.” His voice was sharp. He tried as much as possible to hide his feelings from her, but today he didn’t have it in him. She raised an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic tone. He glanced away to hide his anger. Her eyes narrowed for a moment; then she dismissed it with a shrug.

  

“Suit yourself,” she said. “There’s coffee.”

  

The thought of coffee made the bile rise again in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He knew if he could get at least some caffeine in his system he would feel better. Once upon a time he would have thanked her, as he would thank anyone for the offer. Today he didn’t even grunt.

  

She swatted his butt as she bent over to turn the taps. Ben flashed on an image of his fist in her face and clenched his hands behind his back. He had never hit a woman, and he wasn’t about to start. 

 

Next to the coffee pot was a gun.

  

Ben sank onto the bed, staring at it; then somehow it was in his hand. It was small, a lady’s gun. The kind of thing she could keep in her purse. Nine millimeter. His hand was big on the barrel, his finger big and blunt on the trigger.

 

_But I could do it._

 

“I see you found it.”

 

Her voice jolted him back to his senses. He looked up at her sharply. Time had passed without him. She was wrapped in a burgundy towel. Some strands of hair clung to her forehead where she hadn’t quite managed to dry it all. How long had he been sitting here staring at the gun?  

  

“What are you going to do with it, Ben?” Her eyes were cool, not scared at all. Should she be scared? He was.

 

She stepped toward him, tilting her head as though he were a puzzle she was trying to work out. That maddening half smile on her face, the amused tilt to her lips.

  

He hung in the moment, undecided. Kill her or kill himself. He didn’t know.

  

Either one would ruin Robert forever. 

 

With a grimace, he flicked the barrel open.

 

It was empty.

 

“Did you honestly think I would leave a loaded gun lying anywhere near you?”

 

Ben sat mute, staring at the ugly, impotent thing in his hand. An empty gun. What a perfect portrait of Ben. He should have known. Of course, she would never have left it there by accident. She had been testing his limits, as she had been all along.

  

“Poor Ben,” she crooned, sitting beside him and stroking his hair back. “I wanted to see if you were more homicidal or suicidal. I should have known you wouldn’t break easy. Seems I have a way to go.”

 

“You’re trying to kill me,” he stated. For the first time, he understood it. Pain wasn’t enough; humiliation wasn’t enough – she wanted him totally deconstructed. Torn down, razed to the ground, nothing left but scorched earth.

 

“Well, of course I’m trying to kill you.” She sounded so reasonable. “Poor baby.” She kissed his cheek and stroked his naked thigh. “Did you only just figure that out?”

 

He nodded, then laughed. He was such a fool.

  

“I never was good at relationships.”

 

“That’s what made you so easy.”

 

Easy. It would be so easy for him to turn to her, grab her throat and squeeze. He met her eyes and saw she knew it too. He could lay her down on the bed afterward, cover her with the sheet. Then find where she kept the bullets and finish the whole thing off.

  

She smiled. He nodded, then stood, got dressed.

 

“I can order you a cab,” she said, magnanimously. 

 

“I’ll walk.”

~*~

 

 

Ray didn’t know what he was going to say to Ben when he got back to the RV. Maybe he should apologise, again, for hitting him. Maybe he should scream and yell at him. Try to get through that thick Canadian skull that he was _trying to help, God dammit._

 

He had no fucking clue what to do, other than wait.

 

Ben made his appearance just past midnight. He rattled his way through the main door, stumbled at the threshold. If Ray didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was drunk. Dief rushed at him, bounding up on his back legs, pressing his front paws up against his chest. Ben ruffled his ears, then lifted a finger to his lips. “Hush, Dief, you’ll wake everyone up.”

  

Ray heard his own voice, quiet in the darkness. “Where’s your son, Ben?” 

 

Ben stared at him, for one full minute, and didn’t say a word. His face was smudged pale, and his eyes black with exhaustion. Ray pushed himself up off the crappy couch, and walked right up to Ben, grabbed his shoulders. Dief butted his head between their knees, trying to move them apart and whined. Ray ignored him. “Where’s your son, Ben?” he repeated.

 

And Ben – God. Ben started crying. One moment he was rigid as a marble statue, the next he sagged forward, collapsing like a puppet with all its strings undone. He lurched up against Ray, grabbed onto him like he was drowning, and just... fuck.

 

Ray’s arms went around Ben, trying to hold him up, trying to comfort him. Ben buried his head on Ray’s shoulder, groaning from his chest. He was saying something or trying to, his words thick with grief and tripping each other up.

 

“I’m sorry, I tried to, I couldn’t – I tried, I really, really tried. God, Robert, I couldn’t. I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried.”

 

“Shush, Ben,” Ray squeezed his arms around him, as hard as he could. “It’s okay; it’s gonna be okay.”

  

“I couldn’t look after him. I tried, I couldn’t. I....”

 

“Ben, Ben, it’s okay.” Ray was rocking him now, patting the back of his head. Dief was circling them anxiously, whining low in his throat. In his peripheral vision, Ray could see Mick and Jake peering around their bedroom door to see what was going on. He glared, sending ‘move it along, nothing to see here’ vibes at them. Mick put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, and they stepped back into their room. Ben didn’t even see that they’d been there.

 

“Come on, Ben, Ben. Calm down. Tell me about it. I can help.” 

 

He steered Ben to the couch, collapsed next to him. Dief sprang up on the other side of Ben and dropped his head upon his lap. Ray put his arm around Ben and pulled him into a sideways embrace. He had no clue what to do other than hold him, other than wait for Ben to sob himself quiet.

  

He felt the exact moment that Ben’s brain switched back on.

~*~ 

 

“You okay? You good, Ben?”

 

Ben was lying against Ray’s chest. His breath hitched and hiccupped, sobs breaking past the clenched gate of his mouth. Ray was stroking his hair. Ben tensed, even despite his exhaustion. He’d let his guard down. Ray knew everything. How did Ray know everything?”

 

He pulled himself upright, out of the cradle of Ray’s arms. Dief whimpered and shifted next to him. Ben rested his hand on Dief’s head.

 

“You know about Robert.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Ben tugged his clothing straight and scrubbed his face. _Pull yourself together. Think, think. Maybe it’s not too late._ “I suppose you’ll be talking to social services then.” He looked down at Dief, and his throat hurt, even as he patted the dear, heavy head. “Get him rehomed like a puppy.”

  

“What? No! What the hell? I just want to help.” 

 

“Do you?” Ben narrowed his anger to a tight bead and focussed it on Ray. “And how, exactly, does putting my son in care help?”

  

“Well, how does leaving him with _her_ help?” 

 

“He’s not with her!”

 

“So, where is he, Ben?”

 

“Why for God’s sake would I tell you that?” Ben’s voice shook with the strain of not shouting. “So you can track him down? Put him in the system? Marvellous. Great plan.”

  

“I never said I was going to put him in the system – where the hell do you get that from? I just want to know he’s safe.”

  

“And I don’t? I’m his father; you think I don’t want him safe?”

 

“Listen, Ben.” Ray’s tone gentled. “I’m sorry I shouted. It’s just – I’ve read up on that mad cow. Harry’s ‘silent partner.’ You think he’s safe, with _her_ looking after him?”

 

“She’s not looking after him,” Ben bit off. “He’s somewhere – somewhere safer than that.”

 

“Yeah? So where is he?”

 

Ben closed his eyes and whispered. “If I tell you, you’ll take him away. He’ll spend the rest of his childhood, such as it is, bouncing between one home and the other. I can’t do that to him.”

 

“You think we won’t find him anyway? And if we don’t, do you really think he’ll be safe?” Ray leant back into Ben’s space, dropped his voice so that only Ben could hear him.

 

“Victoria’s going down, whatever happens. We know she’s the one who’s been moving the drugs through. And maybe you’re going down too. We have you on tape talking to her ‘contacts.’ If she goes down, if _you_ go down, who’s going to look after your son then?”

_Fuck._ Ray was right. Ben had come to the end of his resources. There was nothing he could do to protect Robert any more. 

 

“Ben,” Ray’s voice was kind but utterly relentless. “Please. Where’s your son?”

  

“Robert.”

 

“Robert. Yeah, good. Please, tell me where Robert is.”

 

Ben took a shaky breath. “She never told me, but I found him. He’s in a boarding school. Alaska.” Thank God she had kept him close. She could have dumped him in Switzerland. 

 

“If you knew where he was, why didn’t you go get him?”

 

Stupid, stupid Ray. Clever enough he’d figured this whole thing out, stupid enough that he still didn’t understand. Ben turned his face to the wall.

 

“She has custody. He was born in America – in an American _prison.”_

 

“Jesus, Ben.”

  

Inappropriate hysteria welled up in Ben. He felt like asking Ray what on earth he thought Jesus had to do with any of this mess, then bit the tip of his tongue.  His Grandmother would have forgiven him most things, he knew that, but she always had frowned at blasphemy.

 

“Ben? You okay?”

 

Ben shook his head.

 

“I never did finish that story.” He steeled himself to look at Ray again and maintain eye contact. “You remember. _‘Plane down. White out. I let her go.’”_

“Yeah.” Ray didn’t move, didn’t look away. “And you had a baby.”

 

“We had a baby.” Ben cleared his throat. “And as a respectable Mountie I was granted some leniency when it came to custody. As you can imagine, there were questions about how on earth I had conceived a child with a criminal. I was young then, and disrespectful.” He bit his tongue again. “I told them ‘the usual way.’ It seemed funny at the time.” He paused. “I was reprimanded, of course, but it was worth it. I covered for her, and she covered for me. The courts granted me custodial rights – after all, the DNA proved he was mine. But as I am now?” Ben thumped his fist on his chest to emphasise his point. “Do you really think anyone would allow me custody of a child?”

 

For the first time Ray’s eyes wavered. “You’re his father.”

 

“I’m an ex-con, a dirty cop, and a sex worker. Not to mention I am not even an American citizen. Don’t be ridiculous. Would _you_ grant me custody of a child?” 

 

“I wouldn’t grant _her_ custody.”

 

“That wasn’t what I asked.” Ray could have shown him the courtesy of not dodging the question. At least he had the decency to look ashamed. “If I fought for Robert I couldn’t win. We would both lose him, and he would end up in the system. If I didn’t fight for him, at least I could... I could...” Ben’s breath hitched again. “At least I could pay for his schooling, his health insurance. Put money aside for his college, buy him _goddamn shoes.”_

 

“Jesus, Ben! You didn’t have to – to do all _this_ just to keep him in clothes. I don’t understand.”

  

Ben screwed his eyes shut. It sickened him to think how weak he had become. There had to be some way to make Ray see. He gritted it out.

 

“She told me that she had certain expectations from the father of her child. She made it clear to me that if I did not provide for her in the manner to which she had become accustomed then Robert was – forfeit.”

  

“You mean she’d abandon him?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Ray ran his hands through his hair, spiking it up into angry tufts. He looked pained. “So, what? You’re telling me that you decided to join the porn industry because your ex needed alimony?”

 

“For God’s sake, Ray. Do you think I decided anything?”

 

“You could have asked for help.”

 

“Oh? Bear in mind that this is a woman who killed her own sister. Who got away with it. How did I know what she’d do to Robert? Abandoning him was the best case scenario. She’d already proved that she could do anything.”

 

Ray’s face became stubborn and mulish. He really _didn’t_ understand. “You could have asked for help.” 

 

“When? When could I ask? When I first went into prison, having aided and abetted a criminal in her escape? Having suppressed evidence? Oh yes, they’d take me very seriously, I’m sure. Or perhaps I should have asked for help the first time I ended up in the penitentiary hospital? Which I now know was inevitable, because apparently I’m a _‘pretty boy’._ You’ve not met my son. I’m informed that he’s a ‘pretty boy’ too.”

 

“God, Ben – she wouldn’t –”

  

“I’m telling you, she would.” Ben’s voice broke as he shouted. He flicked a glance at the bedroom doors further down the hall and dropped his voice. “Or – I don’t know. She _could._ Look what she did to me; she _still_ says she loves me.”

  

“Listen, if she’s that bad – and I get you, she is – why didn’t you _let_ him go into the system? It couldn’t be so bad that it’s worth –” Ray gestured between them. “That it’s worth _this.”_

  

Ben closed his eyes. It seemed today was his day to tell stories.

  

“You’re a police officer,” he said, his voice a near whisper so that nobody else could hear. “You know what the foster system is like. For the most part, people aren’t cruel. There is no deliberate malice in it, but the system is overtaxed, and – well, things don’t work as they should. Would you want a child of yours growing up like that? Bouncing from one foster home to the next, never knowing who your ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’ were going to be, never knowing who your pseudo parents were supposed to be?”

  

“No,” Ray’s head was close to his now, his voice very low. Somebody watching would think they were about to kiss. “But, Ben. It can’t be so bad you’d kill yourself just on the off chance things went wrong.”

 

“I told you, didn’t I, that my son is a ‘pretty boy’?”

 

“Jesus, Ben.” Ray’s gaze shot up, his eyes bright and alarmed. “Did something happen when you were in care?”

 

“Does it matter?”

  

“Of course it matters!”

 

“In the great scheme of things, not at all. And, as it happens, that is the one thing that did _not_ happen to me in care. Which doesn’t detract from the fact that going into care was the worst thing that ever happened to me.” _Worse even than this._ There was no way for Ben to explain that. He had never understood it himself. “My childhood was already over when I was six. Or thirteen, depending.”

 

“What happened when you were thirteen?”

 

 _Ray’s just keeping me talking,_ Ben thought. _He has to extract the answer to these questions, for his handlers._ “My grandparents died,” Ben said, as though he didn’t know that there was a mic somewhere, recording every word. “For a while I thought I would get to stay in the Territories. I even had a sponsor, Quinn. He fought for me. He thought I might get tribal residential privileges. But my mother’s ancestral connections to the Tsimshian were one step too far removed. I didn’t qualify.” Ben smiled. “Bureaucracy. A grandmother turns out to be a great grandmother, and all the doors slam shut.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Me too. On my fourteenth birthday, they moved me down to Toronto.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

Ben raised his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I survived. That’s the main thing. And I swore blind that I would never let that happen to a child of mine.”

 

“She knew that. Victoria? She knew how much you didn’t want that to happen to your son?”

  

“His _name_ is Robert.” Ben took a breath to steady himself. _It’s not Ray’s fault, don’t take it out on Ray_. “Yes.” His forced his voice to sound calm, even though he wasn’t calm at all. “Yes, she knew.” His eyes shut, almost against his will, and he laid his head back against the couch. Dief moaned and crawled right over his lap, as though he thought Ben was going to run. Ben wrapped his arms around him. He could have told Dief that he wasn’t running anywhere. It was too late now, and besides, he was too tired.

 

“Ben?”

_Don’t rest yet._

 

“I’m an idiot. For ten years, I waited for her while she served out her sentence. I wrote her letters, sent her photos, visited her whenever I could. Robert was six months old when they took him from her, six months before I held him in my arms. And I remember the first time they allowed me to bring him back to see her. He was walking by then.” He smiled at the memory, which had been so dear. God, but he’d loved her. And he remembered Robert that day, rememberd him so vividly that his heart hurt. Remembered his son's determination to walk by himself to see his mother. Remembered  Robert's plump, warm hand tugging on his little finger.

 

“My little man.” His voice cracked; he kept on talking. “She held him so close, so tight, and she cried.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, high up, to stop his own tears. “I thought she loved him. _He_ thought she loved him. I would have....”

  

“What?”

 

Ben snorted. There were some things he didn't like to admit, even to himself. _Anything. I’d have done anything for her._ “I made myself weak. That’s all. She knew everything about me. I handed her the keys and the instruction manual.”

 

“Ben.” Ray’s eyes were full of pain. Perhaps he finally understood.

_I could sleep now,_ Ben thought. _And sleep well, if...._

“If you promise me she’s going down again,” he said, “even if I go down too, I’ll help you.”

  

He opened his eyes a crack, peered through the slit lids. Ray was leaning earnestly forward, arms draped across his lap. Their knees were touching; he could feel Ray’s breath. 

 

“I’ll help you, Ray,” Ben said. “But you need to do something for me.”

  

“What? Anything, Ben.”

 

Ben laughed, sourly. “Never promise to do ‘anything’ Ray. Believe me, I know.”

  

“Okay, okay.” Ray’s voice was calm, as though he were trying to soothe a spooked horse. “But I’ll do what I can.

 

Ben nodded. Good. Ray’s best was good enough – besides, it was all that he had. “Promise me,” he asked, “promise me. You won’t let Robert vanish in the system. You’re a cop. You have some pull. You be his carer.”

  

“I’ll –” Ray sounded stunned. Ben could hear the click in his throat as he swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll do it.”

  

“Don’t just say it. Swear it.”

 

“I swear.”

 

“He’s going to be fucked up.” Ben was flat and implacable. He knew exactly what he was asking, how impossible it was. He demanded it all the same. “He’s going to hate you. Look after him anyway. Not just for a week, or a month, or until someone ‘better’ comes along. Not just long enough for him to nearly get comfortable and then you pull the rug out from under him. I mean, _you look after my son._ ”

 

There was silence for a moment as Ray let it sink in.

 

“Anything. I swear.”

_Oh, thank God._

 

Ben let go of himself. He could finally sleep.

~*~

 

 

Ray had known he was going to hate Victoria on sight, but nothing had prepared him for the moment they met. A wave of revulsion swept over him as he registered the clench and release of a muscle in Ben’s jaw. He reached out, squeezed Ben’s hand. Victoria saw the gesture and gave a tiny little smile. She reminded Ray, viscerally, of a lizard.

 

_How come Ben hasn’t killed this bitch?_

  

It had taken them a week to reel her in. A carefully worded apology to Smithbauer led to a meeting at the bar. Ray knew guys like Smithbauer. Biggest boy on the block, always looking for the next big payout. All Ray had to do was nod and be impressed. Smithbauer was easy to play; Victoria was the prize.

 

Every single day of that week was hell. Ben was excused from filming until his bruises healed, but other than that it was business as usual. Victoria demanded his presence three times, Smithbauer once. Ben didn’t talk about how they spent the night, and the handlers didn’t let Ray listen to the tapes.

 

Ray didn’t need Ben to tell him. He could read it in the grim lines of his face.

_This had better fucking work._

  

Victoria hadn't shared the location of the rendezvous until she had checked Ray's 'credentials.' So far so predictable. Victoria might think she owned Ben body and soul, but she was still a cautious woman. Not cautious enough. Ben knew her better than she guessed.

  

More than that, he hated her.

 

The Feds could use hate. The day after Ben's spectacular collapse, they organised a sit-down. Ben, Ray and Elaine met at the back of that sleazy redneck bar, where Ben ordered tea of all things. He waited for the meeting to start, arranged the speaker in his ear so he could hear the questions, then went to war. One by one he went through the items on the checklist, rejecting and suggesting rendezvous points.

_No, not there. Too much foot traffic outside._

_Not there, she used it recently._

 

_Not there, she doesn't like the manager; he's Mormon._

 

_Maybe here, it's expensive, and she likes to wow her clients._

_Maybe that one, it's got private booths and she likes discretion._

_This one's a possibility._

 

Ben was meticulous, poised, precise; nobody would have guessed that he was setting himself up. He would go to prison over this, and he knew it.

  

He helped them anyway.

  

The second place Ben had suggested as a suitable venue was where Victoria finally confirmed. _Good._ Victoria would have no idea that the joint had been well and truly scoped. Across the street, a surveillance van was recording every word she said.

_I hope you fucking hang yourself._

  

“Ray,” she extended a milk white arm across the table cloth. She didn’t bother to stand, and she didn’t shake hands so much as _take_ his hand. It felt like a precursor to a romantic touch. She held his gaze for a while, smiling beatifically as she stroked his knuckles with her thumb. Ray’s skin crawled. Damn, this bitch was good. He could see how someone could fall for her.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she murmured. “Ben has said such nice things about you.”

 

“You too,” Ray smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to kiss her, so just left his lips resting against her knuckles for a moment, breathing in the spice of her hand cream. He couldn’t place it for a moment – then he had it. “Sandalwood.”

  

She looked surprised, then chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound in the dim room. “Good nose. Do you have any other talents I should know about?” Ray lifted his chin and smiled at her, sending some flirting vibes her way.

  

“Maybe.”

 

Beside him Ben was a mute statue; Ray was still holding his hand. Him and Victoria and Ben, all connected up in one weird circuit. He squeezed Ben’s fingers again, to reassure both of them. Then he made himself let go. Victoria first, then Ben.

  

Still smiling, he took his seat opposite the bitch.

  

“You may sit, Ben.” Victoria’s voice was cool, and she didn’t even look at him. Ray bit back his irritation at this deliberate show of power. The man he was pretending to be wouldn’t be offended by it. He would probably be turned on.

  

Ben sat silently, keeping his eyes bent to the tablecloth. Victoria smiled.

  

“I thought we would eat somewhere Ben enjoyed this time. He has simple tastes. Perhaps next time, Ray, you can pick the restaurant.”

_Simple? Who the hell is she trying to impress?_ It was a pretentiously overpriced French restaurant, that was all. It wasn't the first time Ray had been dragged to a place like this. Stella had loved this shit.

 

Though, the food did smell good. Probably tasted good too, if he could ever find it. He could hardly even see. There was no electrical lighting, and the menus were written out by hand. He'd have to squint by candlelight just to focus on the words.

 

“This is fine,” Ray assured her, smoothly. “I’m Polish. Simple food is good enough for me.”

 

And it was fine. Ray liked French food. Stella had broadened his cultural horizons. He even knew what Victoria’s bread was – pain aux noix, fresh baked. It smelled wonderful, even though he didn't have an appetite. Victoria had knocked it right out of him. Still, he could pretend to appreciate the meal while watching the bitch dig herself in deeper. Fuck it. Who was he kidding? He was going to _love_ that.

 

“I took the liberty of ordering for us,” she said, as the waiter came up and started serving starters. “I hope you don’t mind.”

_She’s a total control freak. And not just with Ben. Figures._

 

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

 

“Yes,” she said. “I picked a particular favourite of Ben’s. Salmon with saffron.” Her eyes darted over to Ben, and her smile became unreadable. “I’m very fond of him, you know.”

 

"I’m sure.”

 

She quirked an eyebrow. “I get the feeling you are fond of him too.” Her hand reached out and stroked the back of Ray’s hands again, where the knuckles were bruised. They were hardly visible in this light, but her fingers unerringly traced the line of hurt. “I hear you’re quite the jealous type.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray strove for casual and pulled it off. “Well, Ben’s pretty special. Brings out a side of me.”

  

“I’m sure you know how special he is, given the nature of your professional involvement.” _Fuck,_ he thought. _She talks like a book. Must be something in the water that far north._ He wondered what their son was like. Born in an American prison, raised by Ben in Inuvik, now residing in an Alaskan boarding school.

  

He couldn’t imagine the kid, no matter how hard he tried. _Shit, what have I let myself in for?_

 

He shouldn’t let his mind wander. She’d said something, and he’d missed it.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  

She glanced at him from under long lashes. “Would you like to get to know him better?”

 

Ray’s mouth went dry.

 

“It’s alright,” she said. “I can understand why you might be tongue-tied. Ben has that effect on lots of people. Believe me, you can get him to do almost anything, given the right motivation.”

 

Ray glanced at Ben, who was still staring at the tablecloth. “And what would that be?”

  

“Oh,” Victoria smiled and began daintily spreading paté on a slice of fragrant bread. Ben’s fish sat on his plate untouched. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there. For now, how about all three of us get to know each other a little better. Ben,” her smile went positively spiteful. “Don’t be shy. Tell me how you and Ray met. I’d love to hear everything.”

  

Ben cleared his throat. “I’m sure you know the story.” 

 

“Indulge me.”

  

“I think Ray is a better storyteller than I am.”

  

A flicker of irritation crossed Victoria’s face; then the smile was back. “He’s so modest,” she opined. “I’m sure he’ll loosen up later tonight. Would you boys like a drink? The wine is very good.”

 

“Just the one,” Ray said, “thanks. I’m driving.”

  

“Ben?”

  

Ben nodded grimly. 

 

Victoria took a dainty nibble, and Ray joined her. Ben pushed his food on his plate. “You’re supposed to eat it, not play with it,” she snapped. Obediently Ben took a mouthful of his starter and washed it down with wine. His wince was barely discernible. “Good boy,” Victoria said and patted his hand. “So, Ray. I understand we’re here to talk business?”

_Bingo._ She’d taken the bait. 

 

“Yeah,” Ray took a sip of the wine. She was right, it _was_ good. “Ben hasn’t told me much, but I’m interested.”

 

“Would you like to sample the product?”

 

Ray shook his head and smiled. “My interest isn’t recreational.”

 

“Well,” Victoria sat back and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I still think some quality control is in order. It’s good business practice to acquire some firsthand knowledge.”

 

“Hey,” Ray scraped back his chair. “That’s not what I signed up for.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t mean you.” She paused. “Ben?”

 

“What?” The syllable was clipped and rude.

 

“Oh, you know what.” Victoria pushed a small white tablet across the table. “Besides, you always complain beforehand, but you always like it in the end.”

_Oh, fuck._ Now Ray knew why she’d chosen such a dark restaurant. Ben gave her a tight little smile and plucked up the pill.

  

“Swallow it this time,” she said. “You know I’ll know if you don’t.”

 

The look Ben threw her was hateful, but he tilted his chin and made a show of swallowing.

 

At least, Ray hoped it was a show.

  

“Hey, is he gonna be okay?”

  

“Oh, yes. He’ll be better than okay. Give it till the end of dinner. You can see just how okay he is when we get back to my room.” 

 

“Uh....”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you boys have some privacy. You’ll like that, won’t you, Ben?”

 

“Yes, Victoria.” Ben didn’t look under the influence of anything yet, just defeated.

  

“Oh good. Here comes our second course. You like fillet mignon, don’t you? I should have asked if you’re a vegetarian.”

  

Ray thought of saying ‘yes’ just to fuck with her. He couldn’t afford to even slightly upset her plans, though. They needed a cast iron case for the prosecution, and money had to exchange hands.

  

This bitch had a tendency to get away with things 

 

“Steak’s fine.”

 

“Good. I think we’ll skip dessert if that’s okay with you. We need to get Ben home before he’s too obviously impaired.” She gestured to them with her fork. “Eat up, then.”

  

Ray took a slice of his steak and ate, watching her and watching Ben. Outside, he knew, the team was listening. All he could do now was bide his time.

 ~*~

 

Victoria was right; Ben _did_ like this tranced out floaty feeling, even if it did flip easily into panic. But even when it was a good trip, _especially_ when it was a good trip, he hated taking it. Once it had him in his grip, there was no option but to endure it. He hated how vulnerable that made him though he knew in the next few minutes he would forget even that. He supposed he could have palmed the pill, but she was right, as always. If he hadn’t taken it, she would have known. It was too much of a risk. Ben had to let things unfold the way she expected until Ray had the evidence he needed.

 

Besides, perhaps he had taken advantage of the moment. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes when he took it nothing hurt.

 

It wasn’t working this time. Already he knew this was going be a bad trip.

 

He stumbled, and Ray caught him. It wasn’t that Ben couldn’t see, not quite. It was that he couldn't understand what he saw. The world jangled in his ears, and he couldn’t process sight. He liked that, sometimes, he liked to get lost in it. It lasted longer than coming. But he couldn’t afford to relax, he knew that.

 

She hadn’t given him to anyone bad this time, though. He could trust Ray, couldn’t he?

 

“I can trust you, can’t I?” His voice echoed in his head like tenor bells. He hoped he didn’t sound too bad, out there in the real world. “You won’t hurt me.”

 

“Yeah, Ben. You can trust me.” Ray’s arm was round his waist, and it was nothing like Mark’s proprietorial gesture. It was a friend’s arm, propping him up. And that was good – because really, it was very hard to stand. “Not much longer now.”

 

“No, no, I don’t suppose it is.” It would all be over soon anyway, for better or for worse.

 

“‘For better or for worse,’” he said aloud. “You know,” he blurted, “I married her. God knows why I married her.” He’d divorced her too, for all the good it did. She found it funny now. After all, she still owned him.

 

“Nearly there, Ben. Don’t worry.”

 

 _Good. Good. Nearly finished._ Ben swallowed. He was thirsty. This stuff always made him thirsty. He knew wine was the last thing he should have drunk with dinner. And he knew that he shouldn't have drunk so very much of it. But Ray had been... he had been... oh, there was a word for it... solipsistic? No, that was him. Another reason he hated the drug. Sometimes it made him so calm; other times it made him panic to think of himself so alone.

 

“You're really here, aren’t you? I don’t always know what’s real. You might be like my father.”

 

“Dead?” Victoria’s voice cut in, bright and amused. He had forgotten she was there.

 

“Come on, Ben. Almost there. You can lie down soon.”

 

Solicitous. That was the word. Ray had been solicitous, making sure he drank plenty of water. His foot had rested against Ben's under the table, as he kept Victoria talking. How had Ray known that Ben needed to be touched?

 

“You’ll look after me. You’ll look after...” Ben stopped. Despite everything he had some control when he was like this. He knew better than to mention Robert in Victoria’s hearing. Ray was on a mission. Ben could afford to say nothing that would queer the deal.

 

 _Queer the deal._ He started giggling.

 

“Here we are,” Victoria said. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. When you’re done with him, Ray, meet me at the bar. We’ll settle up then.” Ben felt her hand caress his cheek, and despite himself leaned into it even as he shuddered. He had no love left for her any more, but sometimes when he was like this, his skin remembered. “Try not to take too long. You can always pick up where you left off. He’ll be like this when you get back. It lasts a while.” She kissed Ben on the lips, and he opened his mouth, whimpered in his throat. “You can do anything you like to him.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Ray’s voice in his ear, his arm still tight around his waist. “I’ll see you in about an hour.”

 

“You don’t have to impress me with your stamina. I’m sure it won’t take as long as that.” The door swung open. “Make sure you lock up when you go out. You don’t want him wandering the hallways like this. Who knows what trouble he could get into?” She paused. “You could always tie him to the bed.”

 

“Uh, I’ll bear that in mind.”

 

Ray’s arm left him, the room becoming quiet as the door shut with a dull whump.

 

“Ray,” Ben’s voice broke out of his mouth. For a moment, Ben saw a terrified bird, and spun around trying to follow it. He stopped, dizzy, all alone in Victoria’s room. He couldn’t see the bird – he couldn’t see anything other than the sounds in his head. Oh God. Bad trip. Maybe he had dreamt Ray. Maybe Ray had never even been there. Maybe....

 

“Hey, Ben, I got you.” Ray’s arm was around him again, steering him toward – ah. The bed. Ben dropped, bounced on Victoria’s mattress and rocked forward, gripping the sheets with his hands. “I got you.” Tender. Ray’s voice was so tender.

 

“Safe,” Ben whispered. “I’m safe.”

 

“Yeah, Ben.” Ray’s hand touched his face. “You’re safe. She’s gone.”

 

For a moment, a sane panic rose in his thoughts. “What if she’s bugged the room?” He’d always been afraid of that. That she was sitting somewhere watching what they did to him.

 

“S’okay. They sweeped the place. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s clean.”

 

 _Oh, thank God._ Ben turned in Ray’s embrace – and how was Ray embracing him, why? Didn’t he know what Ben was? His hands scuttled for Ray’s face. Ray’s hands caught his.

 

“Hey, Ben....”

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Ray, I can kiss you now.”

 

“Shush,” Ray withdrew, gently but firmly pushing him away. “Ben, not like this. You just lie down and sleep it off.”

 

“I can’t.” Ben tugged urgently at Ray’s clothes. “Please. I can’t sleep. Please. Please.” He moved as fast as he could without the world falling over, and straddled Ray’s lap. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._ The angle was wrong, and he wanted skin. He kissed Ray and started humping.

 

“Okay,” Ray batted Ben’s hands away from his belt. “I know. Just – not now. Rest, why don’t you?”

 

 _“Please.”_ Ben pulled Ray tighter to him, fell backward, tugging him on top of him. Ray wasn’t hard. Why wasn’t he hard? Ben rutted against him, desperate to please him. He felt the slight stirring of Ray’s groin and heard him hiss. “Don’t go, Ray. Don’t go.” He hooked a hand round Ray’s head. “You don’t want to go. Please. Please, Ray. Please don’t go.”

 

“I got to go soon.” Ray pulled back. “I’m sorry, but I got to get her, Ben. For Robert.”

 

Oh God. Yes. They had a plan. How could he forget the plan?

 

“Shit.”

 

“What’s wrong, Ben?”

 

“I’m going to prison,” he mumbled. “They’re going to lock me up again. Oh God.”

 

“It won’t be long this time. They’ll get you good lawyers. And the Feds will go light on you. You helped, Ben. You did good.”

 

“Mary Metcalf died because of me.”

 

“No, Ben. She died because of Victoria. It’s not your fault they were sisters. It was just rotten luck for everyone.”

 

“I should have turned her in.”

 

“They caught her anyway, and you turned her in when you found out about Mary. Ben, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

 _Whose then?_ God, he deserved prison.

 

“Wait for me, Ray, please. If I come out, if I....”

 

“Not if, Ben. When. You’ll come out.”

 

“I’ll not come out.” Ben's voice cracked. “I never came out. Ray, God. I died in there. Please, don’t go. Don’t let them take me. I don’t want to die again.”

 

“I’ll wait for you.”

 

“I waited for her. It didn’t help. She’s dead, isn’t she? You’ve met her. I don’t want that to happen to me.” He rolled away from Ray, and pushed his knuckles into his eyes. “Don’t wait. I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Make your mind up, Ben.” Ray’s voice was slightly hysterical as he rested a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Of course I’ll wait. Things will be better in the morning.”

 

“There won’t be a morning.”

 

“There’s always a morning.”

 

“Don’t go.”

 

“I got to. Listen – someone will be here in a minute. They’ll sit with you, make sure you’re okay till you’ve slept this off.”

 

“I can’t sleep.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. But – look, it will pass. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Yeah.” There was a knock on the door, and Ray moved off the bed. “Look, don’t panic, they’re here.”

 

And they were. Ben could hear voices, a man and a woman, Ray. They were talking about him. Ben curled up tighter and didn’t say a word. The mattress shifted again as Ray lent back across the bed.  There was a kiss; a chaste, awkward touch on his cheek. _He must mean it; he kissed me in front of his colleagues._

 

“I’ll be back.” Ray’s voice was soft in his ear. “I promise.”

 

Footsteps, hushed across the carpet, and the door; open, shut. Ray was gone.

 

Open and shut case. He and Victoria both, doomed.

 

Maybe that was a good thing.

~*~

 

It was a clean bust. Ray met her at the bar, bought her a margarita. She sipped daintily, and he knocked back a Scotch. One wouldn’t kill him, and he was shaking inside.

 

He kept it cool on the outside. “Okay,” he smiled. “You deliver the goods I’ll say that for you.”

 

“Like what you see?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” He gave a sleazy grin.

 

“He’s a good fuck.” She sighed. “Unfortunately for me, prison queered him, but I suppose that is in your favour.” She stirred her drink, thoughtfully. “Tell me, did he like it?”

 

“Dunno. Seemed to. Who cares?”

 

“Did he cry?” She sounded intrigued. “He usually cries when he comes.”

 

Ray hated her. He should smash this glass in her face.

 

Instead he ran his finger around the outside edge, making it sing. “He never cries on camera.”

 

“He’s not high on camera.”

 

“Is he gonna remember it in the morning?”

 

“He tends to. Most of them don’t.” Her lips curved in what he supposed was a beautiful smile. “But Ben has that kind of memory. He remembers everything.”

 

 _God. Poor Ben. Everything?_ He kept his face smooth and social. “‘Most of them don’t’ though? What does ‘most of them’ mean?”

 

“Like I say, you can get anything for the right price.”

 

“Anything, or anyone?” Ray leered. “Who do I talk to about that?”

 

“Mark would be best.” Victoria trailed her finger through the salt on her glass, then sucked it coquettishly. It would have been an entertaining move if she hadn’t been a stone cold bitch. “You know,” she mused, “if we call Mark after this meeting is over, he can come join you. Or us, if you prefer. I understand he made some friends tonight.”

 

“Boys? Girls?” Ray winked. “Bonobo monkeys? What are we talking here? I don’t wanna get done on some statutory thing.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about them. I’m sure Mark checked their ID’s first, and besides. It’s not like they’ll remember much in the morning.”

 

_I got her on rape._

 

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. We’ll call Mark then.” _And yeah, we’ll get that fucker too._

 

She nodded, flicking her hair back over her ear. “If you have the money that is.”

 

“Yeah. About that.” Ray gazed speculatively behind the bar. Another drink would be a bad idea. “You said I can have anything for the right price. What _is_ the right price?”

 

She glanced around the room. Seeing everything to her satisfaction she pulled out a pen, and wrote a figure on the back of a beer mat. Ray lifted an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t have that much cash on me. You take a deposit?”

 

She shrugged. “I suppose. No return, and I’ll want the rest tomorrow.”

 

“You’ll get it. Here.” He handed her the small duffle bag he had been carrying through dinner. “That’s about half of it.”

 

She opened the bag and nodded. “I’ll have to count it, of course. I’ll meet you first thing in the morning.”

 

That was what he had been waiting for. She’d walked right into it; money had changed hands.

 

“Turtles,” he said.

 

Her brow crinkled. “Turtles?”

 

“Yeah.” He looked around the room. And there they were, just as planned. The plain clothes moving in, responding to his codeword. He stood up, reached out and shook her hand. She gazed up at him, puzzled, shaking back. Stupid bitch hadn’t put two and two together yet. “Victoria Metcalf. I am placing you under arrest for drug dealing, conspiracy to rape, embezzlement, blackmail....” His grasp tightened as she tried to pull away, and his lips stretched out in a feral grin.

 

“You bastard,” she spat, and lunged at him, free hand hooked as a claw. Ray dodged, and she only managed to graze his cheek. He could feel the blood trickling down. Even that was good.

 

“For assaulting a police officer,” he continued, “resisting arrest, and charges as yet to be determined.” He took a deep breath. It had never been more important to get the Miranda perfect. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?”

 

The look on her face was priceless. For a second he thought she would try to bolt again. No escape. Feds surrounded her on every side. He released his grip, knowing that she couldn’t run. Her face shuttered then, and she stood tall, put her hands behind her back for the cuffs. _Yeah, been there, done that._ Despite her controlled body language, her eyes remained wide and frightened. She looked like a trapped animal, her breath coming quick in her throat.

 

“I am invoking my right to silence.”

 

“That’s your right.” Ray smiled, “but it won’t do you any good. You already said enough.”

 

Victoria’s lips went white.

~*~

 

 

“God, this sucks.”

 

“It’s not that bad, Ray.”

 

“You shouldn’t be in here. I feel like I let you down again.”

 

“To be fair, Ray, I was Victoria’s middleman in a drug smuggling operation. At least some prison time seems appropriate.” Ben smiled and put his hand on the pane which separated them. Ray placed his own hand up against the glass, spreading his fingers, so they matched the shape of Ben’s own. Ray’s fingers were longer than his. Ben wished that he could touch them.

 

He could have done when he was outside. He should have kissed Ray back, that first time; he could have kissed his fingers....

 

The first time. Not the last time. He didn’t know how it would work between them in the real world. Now that sex wasn’t obligatory he mightn’t find it easy. And, dear God. There were STD’s to think of. Harry had looked after his ‘talent’ as best he could, but Victoria hadn’t; it was always a risk. It had never mattered to Ben before. He had never intended to survive.

 

“Ben?”

 

“Yes, Ray?”

 

“You’ve gone spaceman on me.” Ray lifted his hand from the glass and waggled his fingers, to signify ‘spaced out’, or ‘away with the fairies’ or whatever other idiom he might have in his lexicon. Ben smiled and shifted the phone from one hand to the other.

 

“I have? That doesn’t sound like me.” He paused. “Besides, I thought it was your turn.”

 

Ray rolled his eyes. “This is a conversation, not a card game. ‘Your turn.’ What does that mean?”

 

Ben shifted his gaze, stared at the clock behind Ray’s head, counting down the minutes they had left to talk.

 

“Awh, Jeez, Ben, I was only teasing. I’m not mad at you.”

 

“No, I know that.” Ben cleared his throat. “Just – I know we’re not playing games. Not – not anymore.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I...” what was the correct term here? ‘Flirted’ was too mild.  ‘Screwed with you,’ or ‘prick-teased’ were closer but too crude for Ben to say. “I’m sorry for the way I teased you, before. When we were – when we were sharing a room.”

 

“Hey, it’s alright.”

 

“No. No, it’s not. It was...” Ben winced. “Well, now that I think of it, it was sexual harassment. You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Ben.” Ray’s hand was back on the glass. Ben rested his forehead against it. “It’s okay. It worked out.”

 

“Yes,” Ben said, softly. “It did.”

 

“And you’ll get out, and things will be different.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Hey.” Ben felt, rather than heard the ‘tock tock’ of Ray’s fingers through the glass. They really hadn’t skimped on the soundproofing. He looked up. Ray’s face was close to his, brow furrowed with concern. “You okay in there? I mean, you’d let me know if anything was wrong?”

 

“Of course, Ray.”

 

“Because, you know – if anyone is hurting you –”

 

“Oh!” Strange that Ben hadn’t even thought of this as a worry Ray might have. He should have put his mind at rest before now. He had, after all, told Ray some of what had happened last time. “No, nobody’s hurting me. I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah? Because you can tell me if....” Ray swallowed. Ben jumped in to save him from finishing the sentence.

 

“Don’t worry, Ray. It’s different this time.”

 

“You’re not just shitting me?”

 

“No,” Ben smiled. “I’m ‘not just shitting’ you.” He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m a... well, as you know. I’m considered a vulnerable witness. They. Uhm.” He grimaced. This was harder to say than he had anticipated. “They also consider me a suicide risk, so they are keeping me on the medical wing for now.”

 

Ray nodded, his face a picture of misery. Ben cringed at the realisation that it wasn’t news to Ray that he was considered suicidal. It was a reasonable enough assumption, under the circumstances. He had, after all, been high as a kite and crying like a baby when he was arrested. Ben pushed the humiliating memory away. His job here was to reassure Ray, who had already done so much for him. Forcing himself to sound positive he continued. “The waiver of my charges should come through before I have to go back into the general population.”

 

“Yeah.” Ray looked a little better, thank God. “And it shouldn’t be long now. The Feds are working on it with the Canadians. Another couple of weeks, max.”

 

Ben nodded as though he agreed. He was less optimistic about the time frame than Ray. He knew firsthand what a tangled knot the bureaucracy could become. He had been through it once before, with Victoria. Her crimes, like his, had transcended international borders. It had been some time before the lawyers had decided whether to incarcerate her in America or Canada.

 

It would be at least a month, Ben considered, before the paperwork was finished on his case. Possibly more. He could do that. He could last a month or two. At least he _did_ know he’d be out. That he would be released to Ray; to Ray, who visited every day. To Ray, who was waiting for him. To Ray, who had promised to look after his son.

 

Their son now, perhaps. If Ray would have him, of course. Why _would_ he have him, after he had been so thoroughly ruined? It hit him again, a wave of fear. What if he could never face sex again? What if he had contracted an STD, and they weren’t safe? What if Ray wasn’t gay? What if he had been playing a part? What if...?

 

“Hey, Ben. Spaceman. You’re doing it again.”

 

Ben blinked his way back into the real world; to the itchy orange jumpsuit, the sharp smell of bleach, and Ray’s voice tinny on the phone. "Ben?" he said again, his eyes bright with concern through the window.

 

Of course Ray hadn’t been playing a part.

 

“I’m sorry, Ray. I...” Well, this he could say, because Ray already knew it. “I panic sometimes. It will be okay.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it will.” Ray bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable. After a pause, he said what was on his mind. “So, are you taking the meds the doctor prescribed for you?”

 

“Yes, Ray.” Ben smiled patiently. He wasn’t pleased about the fact that the doctors insisted on medicating him. He should have hid his fear better than that. A nervous weakness, his Grandmother had called it, then prescribed hard work and exercise. But at least, Ben thought, he was sleeping better. And all of this was only temporary.

 

Ray was obviously thinking the same thing. “Look, Ben. When you get out of here, we’ll go for that dinner you wanted. Remember our first meal? We ate Thai?”

 

Ben laughed. “Yes. And you drank beer and fended off a wet wolf.”

 

“How about next time we do the white tablecloth, candlelit thing? You want Thai again?”

 

Ben thought about it. Something to overwrite every other ‘romantic’ memory he had. A meal with someone he loved, who loved him in return. Yes.

 

“Thai,” he agreed. _Anything but French._ “Sparkling water. No wine.”

 

“Yeah,” Ray’s smile was sad, but his voice was hopeful. “That’ll be good.”

 

And it would be.

 

It was later when Ray had left, and Ben was doing his ‘busy work’, that the big fact hit. Again. He was making the beds when the thought knocked him sideways.

 

 _Breathe. God._ His knees were weak. _Breathe._ The truth was so vivid it made him woozy. He gave up on what he was doing, and leaned on the mattress, head and hands pressed on the cool sheets. _God._

 

_I’m going to see Robert again._

 

Any day now, he would be seeing his son. It had been over three years. Dear God, how much had Robert grown in that time? How much had Robert changed? He would be on the cusp of manhood now.

 

Ben couldn’t imagine it. For the first eleven years of his son’s life he’d barely spent a day apart from him. Even for the first six months, when the prison had only allowed him ten minutes per visit to see him through glass. Even then he had managed to visit his son every day. And after all that, after eleven years of fatherhood – God. Brick wall. They had both been slammed up against it. Since Ben’s first arrest, there had been no contact. Victoria had seen to that; no visitation rights at all – what must that have done to Robert? How must he feel?

 

 _God, maybe Ray was right. What if I did give up too easily? Maybe I could have fought it if –_ No. No, Ben couldn’t see how. And after the trauma of the first week inside Ben had known that he didn’t want his son to see him like this.

 

 _I’m going to see Robert again._ The thought repeated in his head, and he allowed it to sink in. Frankly, he had no idea how he felt. He longed to see his son, yes, to know that he was okay – but then –

 

_What is Robert going to think of me now?_

 

There was no way that Victoria would have spared their son the knowledge of what Ben had been doing. Even if, by some miracle, she had kept her mouth shut, the rumours were bound to have hit the school. Ben knew all too well, from his time in foster care, what boys were like.

 

But Robert – Robert had always been a good kid. _Unless he is like his mother,_ a poisoned thought broke in, _good at faking it. Unless –_

 

Ben shut his eyes. He had never had thoughts like that before. He knew it was a symptom of paranoia, of intolerable fear stretched thin over a long period of time. He knew it wasn't true. But even if it were true Ben would love his son to his last breath.

 

“It’s going to be alright.” His voice sounded rusty. He hadn’t been using it all that much, other than speaking to Ray. He coughed to clear his throat. Victoria hadn’t raised Robert, after all, he had. And Ben refused to believe that psychopathy was inherited. Robert had never shown any sign of it.

 

 _“It will be alright, Son.”_ His father’s voice in his head, for the first time in forever. _“He’ll forgive you. You go somewhere else, with your friend. Go somewhere quiet, and start again.”_

 

“Ben?” The doctor was doing his rounds and gave him a curious look. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, fine.” Ben pushed himself up from the mattress – his head had been resting on his fists – and continued to make up the beds. “A dizzy spell. It’s passed.” The doctor looked dubious, but they always did. You could never trust criminals after all.

 

Ben plumped out the pillow and pondered what his father had ‘said’. Even if it was an hallucination, it was more comforting than any he had ever had before. It even felt more real, almost as though his father had been standing beside him.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” he said and smoothed out the sheet.

 

_“You’re welcome, Son.”_

 

Ben blinked. For a moment, he had almost seen him. Not something he would tell anyone, not even Ray. But –

 

He felt forgiven.

 

For the first time in a long time, Ben started to sing under his breath. He was smiling.

**~*~**

 

Robert looked a lot like his father, with longer curlier hair. He was taller than the social worker who led him into the room – nearly as tall as Ray. His expression was aloof, and he walked like a soldier.

 

Yeah. A lot like Ben, when Ben had his mask on.

 

Ray was glad he couldn’t see Victoria in him, but he kinda wished the kid wasn’t so damn beautiful. Ray had seen what those kind of looks had cost Ben. One day Robert would know it too. Some fucker was going to tell him just what his mother had done to his father, and just how far Ben had gone to keep him safe.

 

What the hell would that do to the kid? What if it had already happened? What if some little shit at school had spilled the beans? Ray knew what bastards kids were. He'd been one himself. God, he hoped Robert hadn’t been bullied for it.

 

Samantha, the social worker, made a discreet exit, leaving Robert in the room with Ray. Ray almost stood, then decided against it. Maybe he wasn’t that much taller than Robert, but he didn’t want to intimidate him the moment they met.

 

Robert looked nearly like a man – holy shit, he had chin fluff. Someone needed to teach him how to shave. That would come as a shock to Ben. Three years ago the kid wouldn’t have been shaving.

 

Robert eyed him distrustfully, then sat across the table from Ray. For a moment, neither one of them said a word, sizing each other up as though it was an interrogation. Ray couldn’t figure out which one of them was the cop and which the suspect. He thought maybe he was the bad guy here.

 

“Hi.” Ray broke the impasse and stuck out his hand. “You must be Robert.”

 

“So I must.” Ray blinked. That had always been his joke. The kid quirked a smile – a very Ben smile – and stuck his own hand out. For a kid not yet fifteen that was quite some grip. Seemed Robert Fraser was determined to make an impression. “And you must be Ray.”

 

Yeah, Ben was going to get a shock. The boy’s voice had broken.

 

“Yup. That’s me.”

 

“My Dad’s friend.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And my mother’s arresting officer.” Ray’s heart went cold, as did the kid’s knowing smile. “You here to lock me up too?”

 

“No, uh....” Damn. He was off on completely the wrong foot here. “No. I’m – well –”

 

“Well, what?”

 

“Your Dad asked me to look after you. You know. While the trial and everything is going on. So you don’t....”

 

“So I don’t end up in care like he did.”

 

“Uh – yes.”

 

Robert nodded. “He was always scared of that happening. I heard him talking about it to Buck sometimes when they thought I was asleep.”

 

 _Smart kid. And who’s Buck?_ Ray had heard the name, but he couldn’t place it now. Something to ask Ben.

 

“So.” Robert looked away. “You think he’s going down again?”

 

“I don’t know. Probably not. Or not for long.”

 

“You think _she’s_ going down again?”

 

_Victoria. Christ._

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think she is. Sorry kid.”

 

“Don’t be.” Robert’s eyes were blue chips. “She can rot in hell for what she did to him.”

 

 _Now_ Ray could see Victoria in Robert. Jesus Christ _,_ that kid hated his mother.

 

“So. _Ray.”_ The kid spat his name out like a curse. “Dad wants you to look after me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay. One condition.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“You look after him too.” Robert’s voice was low and fierce. “He must trust you if he thinks you’re good enough to look after me. Not that I’m all that, but _he_ thinks I am. So if he thinks that much of you, you think that much of him. If you don’t love him, then this won’t work.”

 

Ray’s mouth was dry. On the other side of the mirror a team of welfare officers were hanging on every word. They didn't matter. This conversation was about him and Robert, Robert and Ben. About the three of them, maybe patching a family together from the wreckage.

 

“I’ll look after your Dad, Robert.”

 

The kid’s eyes narrowed in a scowl. “Yeah? Why? Because it’s your job?”

 

“No.” Ray looked straight into the kid’s eyes. “Because I love him.”

 

“And why’s that? Because you saw him in the movies and you like his cock?”

 

 _Shit. The kid knows everything._ Ray gritted his teeth.

 

“No. Because I never met anyone in my life who loved anyone as much as he loves you. I’ve already had this conversation – with _him.”_ He stared at Robert, willing him to understand. “You should have heard him. It’s the one thing he wants, the one thing he ever wanted – for you to be safe. He’d have done _anything_ for you. He damn near killed himself for you. _That’s_ why I love him. Because he’s just that brave.”

 

Robert levelled a long gaze at him. “You got it bad, don’t you?”

 

Ray blinked. That was the truth, wasn’t it?

 

“Yeah. I got it bad.”

 

“Good. It’s about time somebody gave a damn.” Robert rubbed his eyebrow – a gesture that reminded Ray painfully of Ben. “You think they’ll let me see him?”

 

“Yeah, Robert, they will.”

 

“You reckon he’ll forgive me?”

 

“Forgive you? For what?”

 

Robert’s grown up expression trembled suddenly on the verge of tears. He rubbed his face, trying to pull himself back together. He really did look like Ben.

 

“If I hadn’t been born, she wouldn’t have been able to do all that to him. She wouldn’t have been able to....”

 

“Hey, hey.” Ray reached out and grabbed the kid’s hands, squeezed them. “Don’t do that. Don’t think that. You are the best thing that ever happened to him.”

 

Robert snorted, pulling his hands free. “He’s crazy.”

 

“Yeah.” Ray smiled. “He is that. When you’re a dad you’ll understand.”

 

“Are _you_ a dad?”

 

Ray paused. “I hope so. If you let me.”

 

“The jury’s out.”

 

Ray nodded. It would take some time to prove himself. If it took the rest of his life he’d give him that. Robert rubbed his eyebrow again. Poor kid. He put up a good front, but he was as scared as Ray was.

 

“You promise they’ll let me see him?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve already got it cleared. And when he gets out – which won’t be long – we’ll be waiting for him. Okay?”

 

Robert stared at him, still trying to size him up. “Will we? Be waiting for him? I know _I_ will, but what about you?”

 

“We’ll both be waiting. It’s gonna be alright, kid.”

 

Robert shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted. Ray walked around the table, crouched down next to Robert’s chair and looped his arms around him. He knew instantly he had done the wrong thing. Robert went stiff.

 

Of course he did. Ben was nothing but scar tissue, and after what he’d been through, the kid was bound to be fucked up too. _God. What an idiot._ He bit back the instinct to apologise. Drawing attention to it would just make things worse. _Shit._ He let go of Robert.

 

“Hey,” he straightened up, glancing at the mirror and nodding his head at the door. Since they were watching this shit they had better be ready for his cues. “I got someone you might want to meet.”

 

“Well, if it’s not my Dad you’re not in luck....” Robert’s voice trailed off as the door opened. The social worker was smiling – presumably Samantha hadn’t noticed Ray’s little fuck up. But better than that, she was crouched down next to Dief.

 

“Diefenbaker?”

 

Robert’s voice sounded exactly like the child Ben would remember. Samantha let go of Dief’s collar, and he barrelled straight at Robert, yipping like a puppy. The kid dropped onto the floor and flung his arms around him. He didn’t even complain when Dief put his paws up on his shoulders and slobbered on his ear.

 

For a minute Ray thought he shouldn’t be in the room. It was weird being here with Robert, as he sobbed and laughed into Dief’s fur, and pretended not to cry. But then, Ray had promised Ben that he wasn’t going anywhere.

 

He stepped back a little anyway, to give Robert and Dief some space.

 

Next would be paperwork, and logistics; the small painful details of everyday life. The trial itself could take years.

 

But they could do it. They could be happy. Ben and Ray and Robert and Dief. There was a lot of love here. Love had to count for something, didn’t it? Hell, it had to count for everything.

 

And maybe one day Robert would hug him back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Vic32 for the frankly terrifying premise, and for her encouragement in getting me through it. She has the best ideas. If this one went crack crazy it is entirely my fault.
> 
> Thanks to mizface and hazelwho for modding the Big Bang, and cheerleading in the chats - particularly for pushing me over a huge hump of writer's block, when I was sure I was going to give up. I don't know if they will remember the plot point I was weeping about, and their advice as to how to get past it - but I remember it. Thank you, ladies.
> 
> Most of all, mega-thanks to Happy29, for offering to beta something that made her uncomfortable, telling me 'oh, yeah - this actually works,' cheerleading, bouncing ideas, dunking me in Lake Michigan (no, seriously, we went swimming in The Lake They Call Michigan) letting me sit in her living room while we wrote our respective contributions for this year's festivities and introducing me to the joys of hazelnut creamer in coffee. God bless America.
> 
> Even if it does want to burn me to a crisp. Seriously, America? What's with your weather?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Silent Partner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978705) by [mizface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface)




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